


Dragonfire

by orphan_account



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Autistic Zuko (Avatar), Dragon Zuko (Avatar), Found Family, LGBTQ Themes, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Neurodiversity, Not Beta Read, The Jasmine Dragon (Avatar), Trans Zuko (Avatar), Werewolf Yue (Avatar), good azula, if someone wants to pick this up highkey go right ahead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Benders and spirits aren't the only 'magical' beings, Sokka. Were bloodlines can go back for centuries without carriers themselves knowing. Besides, where's your sense of adventure?"-----------------------There is no dragon in Ba Sing Se.-- Joo Dee to Avatar Aang.
Relationships: Azula/Yue (Avatar), Mai/Suki/Ty Lee, Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Sokka/Suki/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Suki/Sokka/Zuko/Mai/Ty Lee, Suki/Ty Lee (Avatar)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 189





	1. Igneous

The abomination that he is is revealed during his Agni Kai, with his father's burning hand melting the skin from his face, frying meat and nerves and fatty tissue, raising bone into something so much harder and... darker. Igneous rock hardens over the wound, dark grey and black and smooth. He’s crying, terrified, the light golden eye not blazing under his father’s hand stretched wide in horror.

His hands clutch at his father's arm, begging, trying to push him away with no strength, all of it shocked from his system by the sizzling, so that he’s just grasping, light and frozen in place rather than forceful. Hard, gleaming red scales trace up elongated fingers, disappearing up his arm under his uniform. Thick claws tear into his father's robes.

Theres a gasp that waves through the audience, and then, the claws of his toes and heel burst through his shoes. His feet follow a similar pattern to that of his hands.

They can't see it, under his garments, the scales that roll down his arms from his shoulders and collarbone, down his legs from his hips and up his legs from his ankles, tracing up the back and sides of his neck, rib-like pattern fraying from his spine to his torso.

The tissue under his father's hand hardens, too, then, gleaming like a bloodred gem, smoothly polished beneath ash and burnt flesh.

The tips of his ears crystallize into red-gold-purple-blue points, like solidified, upside-down flames. The crowd gasps, an almost unified realization that their Prince is a dragonfire.

Benders and nonbenders of any element can become a were. Thought to be either cursed by or part spirit, weres are considered in the Fire Nation to be honorless beings. They stalk through the agniless nights to steal Fire Nation children and conspire against the Fire Lord. They are abominations. They are evil.

Dragonweres, while generally stronger than their other were counterparts, are worse. There's a reason that the Royal family extinguished all draconians, weres and dragons alike. They're dangerous. No matter what element they bend, no matter who they are, they're a threat to the Fire Nation unlike any other.

The Crown Prince of the Fire Nation is a dragonwere, a dragonfire specifically, and he just lost whatever honor his royalty may have at least bid him otherwise.

Blood, red and gold, leaks from the corners of his open mouth. Thick, hardy fangs push out through his gums, trashing the teeth that had set from them prior. They fall to the ground, some catching in his robe. His elongated tongue glows in gold.

The expression on his father's face is hidden, despite the light emanating from within his son's body, as though Agni himself were concealing it from sight.

The boy breathes in, and the Fire Lord only barely manages to part the wave of heat and flame that he breathes out. His hand has left the boy's face. He raises his hand again, flame encasing it in a glassy structure, and brings it down center on his child's head.

The boy falls, unconscious. Far above, Agni theirself glowers.

In the days that follow, many execution proposals are announced. There's an issue, though, in the crystalline structures of the Cursed Prince's burn and scales. He has a crystalline were structure, which indicates that life-threatening wounds will simply harden. An idea is rolled around that he could be paralyzed, but prior experiences with an Earthen crystalline werefox thought to have originated from Kyoshi Island dispel the promise. The crystalline structure is fluid, so long as it's being moved by the were in question. It is... unfortunate.

They could shatter him. Compromise so much of his body into its draconian form that they can simply break it.

This plan is almost fully processed and confirmed before suddenly, he vanishes. Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation is missing, and so is Fire Lord Ozai's firstborn son.

In the coming weeks, it will be realized that an entire group of seaworthy men and women have gone missing as well, sailors all affiliated with Prince Iroh and the secretive, but not perfectly unknown to Fire Nation resources, White Lotus organization.


	2. Pebblefall

It’s a simple stop by the so-called "King's" Library (named for its position directly opposite of that of the palace, which, to each their own) that gets Li the books he needs. Despite no longer being royalty, known as royalty, or even presumed alive after the Fire Nation declared he and his Uncle dead, his uncle still requires them to keep up on his education. It’s almost pointless, he would believe, if not for the lengthy opportunity that his potential lifespan will afford. On the salary of a teashop, he studies many subjects: geography, politics, elemental differences, mysticism, spirits and spirituals, mathematics, language, song, game. He verses himself in the culture around them, the culture of other kingdoms, far more than he’d ever dreamed of being as the Prince of the Fire Nation.

For the most part, life is good. Settling in was a hassle; no, actually—getting accustomed to his entire new life was the hassle. With the help of prior Lieutenant Jee of the Flame Navy, apparently Zuko was smuggled out of their own nation by his uncle. He can only imagine the chaos of it, having been unconscious for a solid week on whatever drugs he’d been given himself. All he knew was that there was a body bag involved and he’d since turned it into his nightly stroll cloak.

… His uncle didn’t need to know about that, and he wouldn’t.

It’s with a lot of angst and anger thinly veiled under a layer of customer service masking that Zuko goes about his days. At least, that is, until the inner-ring bastards that he’s currently serving get the best of him.

“Listen, listen,” the supposed mother is yacking. “I just want the tea as part of the _delicassens_ , that way when I dip them in the water it becomes tea. But, you have to make sure they won’t melt. They can’t be bricks, either, though. My daughter is _blind_ , and she deserves only the best. It’ll _naturally_ sweeten the tea on its own, don’t you think? Like cookies in tea, but with the tea in the cookies, creating the tea.”

He blinks once, twice, then briefly shakes his head to clear it.

“Ma’am, that’s not on the menu—,” he tries, but she doesn’t listen, instead pulling out a small fortune bag of coins from her cloak to wave in front of his face. It _jangles_ with its weight.

“Oh, come on. For this much, _surely_ you can figure it out. This _shoppe_ has a five-star rating. I know that you’re a dragonwere, but darling, that doesn’t mean you can’t at least bake such a basic treat.”

He sucks the steam that wants to escape through his nose and ears back down through his throat. From her seat at the table, the woman’s little girl stifles a laugh in the meat of her palm, the wrong side of the hand for center ring elites. He furrows his brow, but doesn’t comment, turning his attention back to the girl’s mother.

“It sounds like it would be lovely to practice and figure out for the future, ma’am, but currently we don’t have anything of the sort on our menu. If we could interest you in any other sorts of pastries or items on the menu, please do let me know.”

She opens her mouth to start on again, _he’s been at her table for seven minutes and this is a busy festival day,_ and he ducks in a quick bow, swiveling on his heel to walk away.

“I’ll be back in a few, if you’ve decided on anything by then, do let me know,” he calls over his shoulder.

 _Agni_.

He can feel the heattraces of the woman squishing her daughter’s cheeks behind him as she picks up the menu again, reading off rather loudly item by item, each with its description in full. He wants to groan and bury himself in the basement they’d saved so much for so long to dig, the gym-slash-hideout-bunker down below.

Instead, he resigns himself to instead check in on all of the other tables, taking note of how many waters he needs to bring out for new customers and that someone’s tea got _cold_ while they just _spent too much time talking_ , and now it’s _worthless_ and _would you please heat it up again_.

A lock of stray hair falls down into his face, and he blows it out of the way, relieved that there’s no spark to accompany his marrow-deep rage.

Spring is blooming outside the teashop, though it feels more like fall with the persistent chill in the air. Early flowers of herbs bloom in the tiny garden on the sides of the building that his part-time coworker, Jin, convinced him to plant and taught him to nurture.

She, too, is a were, though a nonbender. A foxwood, and a sneaky, conniving, worm-her-way-into-growing-good-will-in-everyone brat.

He can’t deny that she’s done so to him, though truly such was a combined effort between she and his Uncle.

This spring is Jin’s last spring as a part-timer; after this, she’ll be working full time as a fruit merchant.

He couldn’t be prouder, honestly. With some convincing, she’d managed to goad him into studying botany and herbology with her, beyond her familial apprenticeship. ‘Plant girl,’ he’d come to call her.

He’s just about to disappear back through the doors to the kitchen, to safety, when he hears someone call across the room at him, “Waiter? I think we’ve decided on our order.”

He scowls behind his face, then risks turning around with a fake, but seemingly genuine, smile. He can see immediately that it’s the same rich woman that had held him up a few moments earlier. He’s still only holding his order pad, with no dishes to necessarily bring back. He’ll have to engage again.

He can _feel_ the kid’s chortles as he steps back to the table. She’s laughing, not even trying to hide it, her paled green eyes wide with mirth, as though she can sense his ire. She’ll never have to work customer service a day in her life.

“What can I get for you, ma’am?” he asks pleasantly, redirecting his attention to the kid’s mother, blocking her out of his brain entirely.

 _What a brat_.

“My dear daughter will have three matcha-pear scones and some of your lemon ginseng tea, and I will have a berry truffle with an iced chocolate black tea, if you would please,” she orders.

 _She would order something as expensive as chocolate_ , he mentally comments.

“Will that be all for you today?” he asks.

“Um, a cranberry-egg club sandwich for myself, and blueberry-chicken for my daughter, as well. She can’t have eggs, unfortunately, my sweet little schmoockums,” the woman added on, reaching once more for her daughter’s cheeks. The girl pushed away, effectively moving her chair halfway around their (much too large for two) table.

“Oh, and make sure that the blueberry chicken salad is made with the egg-free sauce, of course,” she adds in.

Zuko frowns, adding a note that reads _No eggs whatsoever_ under the girl’s order. It’s probably an allergy, then.

“And is that everything?” he asks.

The woman purses her lips, looking down at the menu, then blinks.

“For now,” she announces cheerfully.

He tries not to inhale, and for once, succeeds.

“Alrighty, ma’am, your order will be out soon,” he tells her.

Once more, he spins on his feet, and swishes his way to the back. This time, mercifully, he makes it through the door.

“You really can’t stand the stuffiness of these people, either, can you?”

He’s weeding the garden on the left of the Jasmine Dragon when the childish voice interrupts him. He stumbles on his toes, nearly falling backwards, dropping his shears in the process and catching himself on his hands, knees high in the air.

“Ah- what?” he asks, turning his head to see the little blind girl from earlier standing at the face of the garden.

Her sightless eyes bore into his head, and he shakes it, trying to forcibly will away the sudden shudder that goes through his being.

“What are you doing out here?” he tries, instead.

She shrugs, bending down onto her own knees, lowering her pretty green gown into the grass and fresh-rain mud. He thinks that her mother will have an absolute fit when she sees it.

“Escaping,” she answers.

He snorts, pushing himself back into the proper crouch that he fell out of.

“Escaping?” he asks, entertaining her for the moment. Despite technically being outside of the restaurant, she is still his customer, after all.

She gives a brisk nod that he catches out of the corner of his eye as he goes back to work, pulling weeds and trimming excess.

“I don’t like it, either,” she simply says.

He has no idea what in Agni’s name she’s talking about, and decides to keep quiet.

“I met a man with the same as vibe as you, asking around about you,” she suddenly says.

He stiffens.

“Um… what?”

He didn’t notice that she’d moved closer, but now she’s only a foot or so away, seemingly peering down at him, on her feet once more. He stiffens.

“He’s a were, too, y’know. I think his name is Luna, or something? He’s a librarian in the inner ring.”

The tiny branch of some plant between his sheers snaps as it’s sliced. Green pus drips down from where he’s only partially cut through it. She keeps talking.

“Luna the aquemonkey. I think he’s been waiting for you to visit the inner ring library.”

He’s still processing whatever the fuck that might mean when the girl suddenly inhales.

“Oh! You shouldn’t introduce him to your uncle Mushi, though. He said you can’t add too many ingredients to a small cup of tea, whatever that may mean. I, personally, like punches of flavor. Bring it on!” She throws a tiny fist up into the air. He’s surprised to see that it’s calloused.

There’s a high chance, he decides, that she’s a mold of the Dai Li. His blood runs cold at the idea of them getting their hands on a child, of them replacing the mind of someone so young.

She drops her fist with a sigh.

“But yeah, you should really run by the inner library soon, dragon boy,” she finalizes.

“Does your mother know where you are?” he asks her, instead of the millions of questions and tissue-soaked nauseating dread that he feels swirling about his being.

She grins smugly.

“Nope! Never.”

Her mouth opens wider, and he can see huge, like, gigantic rows of fangs peaking out.

“And it’s going to stay that way, _riiiiiiight_?” she asks him, in a way that stops his heart and promises threat.

Ah. So, she also is a were. He honestly doesn’t want to know what kind, with teeth like that. You don’t typically find weresharks in the Earth Kingdom, though he can’t truly rule the possibility out.

He nods briskly.

“Go—go bother someone else,” he orders. “I’m working.”

She laughs, clapping her hands together with a tiny bounce that shifts the earth around her, throwing him off of his balance and toppling him over again, then disappears as suddenly as she came. He shakes his head, about to ponder just what the hell kind of freak shit she just brought to his attention, and then decides **_no_** , worry vibes go to the worry station.

He goes back to weeding his plants.

Jin won’t stop poking his shoulder.

He’s just trying to clean the dishes, vibe, exist in his own little bubble, and she _won’t stop poking his shoulder_.

Poke. Poke.

Poke.

He breathes in heavily through his mouth, then ducks his face down and nips at her fingertip on twenty-seventh poke.

“Eep!” she mock-cries, yanking it away. There’s not a single drop of red.

“I’ve been slain! How could you, Li, I thought we were _friends_!”

“We’re coworkers. I have no friends,” he drawls.

She pouts, placing her hands on her hips. He looks away.

She stays like that. He continues to look away.

She still hasn’t moved when he’s five dishes past.

“You know that your shift is over, right, Li?” she asks.

He grits his teeth.

“And are the dishes clean?”

She goes back to incessantly poking his shoulder. This is an attack. This is… This is treason, he decides. He’s the nephew of the restaurant owner. It must be!

He accidentally bites the side of his tongue and a spark lights inside his mouth. He’s glad that she’s on the other side and _hopefully_ couldn’t see it through his skin.

Whether she noticed or not, she keeps poking him. To be fair, if she did notice, she’s probably noticed a lot of similar suspicious flares before. Welp. If the Dai Li come after him, at least he can rest assured from the little girl earlier that they were already probably onto him.

“There’s somewhere I wanna check out tonight, Li,” she says.

He ignores her.

“ _Liiiiiiii_ ,” she sings.

“What is it?” he asks, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. The girl’s like, like, he doesn’t know what she is but she’s something he cares about and she has _definitely_ figured out how to get under his skin and get what she wants. She’s a master of treason.

“I wanna go to an underground earthbending competition.”

He feels his jaw drop open, his claws sink into the wooden floorboards. He drops his current dish into the bubbling sink, absently thankful that he doesn’t hear it shatter.

“Y-you _what_?” he asks, turning to her in shock.

Earthbending competitions aren’t banned, but _underground_ earthbending competitions? Non-sponsored competitions? She must be out of her mind!

“You heard me. I wanna go to a comp tonight. There’s supposed to be someone new and really strong at this one,” she says.

“No. Absolutely not,” he decides, abruptly turning back to his dishes.

She’s actually crazy, insane. Almost to the extent of his sister. Actually, no, she’s not even close, but she’s definitely got some lightning bolts out of place in her head.

She wants to go to an _underground earthbending competition_. Does she even realize how dangerous that could be? The Dai Li could infiltrate it to shut it down, human traffickers could grab her, his secret could be revealed.

“But it’ll be _fuuuuuuun_ ,” she’s whispering into his ear, now.

He shivers.

No. Absolutely not. Nada.

“If you don’t come with me, I’ll have to go alone,” she pouts.

He stiffens somehow even more from the rigid posture he’d come into originally, drawing up higher, as though the base of his neck were being pulled up on a string. His head raises.

“Nope,” he simply says.

“Oh? So then you’ll come with me?” she asks, hope lighting up her expression.

He doesn’t even need to look to see it. Her eyes are glowing like a true firebending master’s, even though she’s not any kind of bender.

“No. You’re not going,” he orders instead, quietly.

She chews the side of her mouth.

“You can’t stop me, Blue Spirit boi,” she comments, wacking his arm lightly.

Ah, great. Now he has to remember that she _knows_ , _and_ she’s getting a taste for dangerous situations.

This is just wonderful.

He’s truly glad that he’s learned how to bottle up—ah, reign in, he means, his emotions.

“Jin,” he whines, under his breath; any moment, his Uncle or another coworker could walk in and overhear her.

She gives a cute little bounce on her feet.

“If you wanna keep your secret safe with me, you should keep me safe too,” she says with a wink.

He decides, for the many-eth time, that she’s evil.

“Meet me at twenty-three sharp,” she says, moving to leave, punching him lightly in the back as she goes. “You can’t stop me, _draconewt_.”

He sighs and resigns himself to finish the washing. After that, he supposes that it won’t be today that he checks out the situation at the library.

No, he needs to gather information about a lot of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko: *hating customers, vibing*  
> Toph: hey wanna get spooked  
> Jin: hey wanna get sp00ked  
> Zuko: well fuck me i guess


	3. A Day in the Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zuko goes on a supply run and says hi to a few familiar faces and meets someone he decides he never wants to see again in his life.

In the relative safety of his room, Zuko finally, finally, allows himself to freak the fuck out.

Who the fuck is a Luna? What the fuck did that little girl want? Is she Dai Li? The Dai Li are willing to erase _children_ , now? Why the fuck would Jin want to go to an underground earthbending competition? Did she legitimately go crazy? Is she trying to impress someone shady? She’s about to get inducted fully into her parents fruit business! She can’t start doing shit like this now, of all times. Do the Dai Li know who Li and Mushi _actually_ are?

 _Oh_ , he thinks, _they’ve definitely known since we stepped foot in the city_.

But they’d left them alone up until this point, and even underground news didn’t carry any spectacular movements of the Fire Nation. Though, there was a rumor that supposedly an airbender—a freaking airbender, of all impossible things, was on the move, claiming to be the Avatar.

 _Yeah, right_.

The airbender had to be a fake. There was no way.

That aside, what the _fuck_?

He breathed in and out quickly, trying to keep from hyperventilating, sliding his claws along the smooth, sharp planes of his teeth. His tail twitched in his right pantleg.

This was a whole situation. Actually, it was _two_ whole situations.

“Li?” he heard his Uncle calling, walking heavily up the stairs.

He put on a this-is-fine-everything-is-fine smile, only the corner of his mouth twitching to tell otherwise (stupid tell stupid tell _stupid tell_ ), letting his eyes fall closed trustingly, and thrust the door open.

“Yes, Uncle?” he asked, fake-cheerfully.

Mushi made it up the last step and stared at him.

“Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know what wouldn’t be,” he answered, laughing lightly, scratching the back of his head.

The little girl told him not to bring up Luna. Distantly, he put together that Luna started with the same sound as Lu Ten, and she had told him not to tell _Mushi_. That was certainly an interesting coincidence.

His Uncle keeps staring at him, then shrugs.

“Now that you’re off shift, you should really go check out the festival,” he says, and Zuko is suddenly reminded that, yes, that’s why it was so busy today, and distinctly, is that girl’s mother Dai Li? Could she have ordered the brainwashing of her own child?

“Ba Sing Se sure his interesting this time of year,” he replies, turning around and stalking over to his drawers to sort through clothes for some loose, light gear.

He can feel his Uncle’s sharp gaze burning through his back.

“Is that so?” his Uncle asks. “I’m partial to full summer, myself.”

“You would be,” Zuko quips back coolly.

He can feel the tip of his tail twitching against his ankle.

His Uncle laughs. It’s full-bellied, despite the somber topic. Lu Ten was assassinated in an attack during winter.

“Indeed!”

He rests a hand on the doorframe to Zuko’s frame.

“You know where your savings are, and where to find me if anything comes up.”

Zuko’s heart aches. He really should say something to his Uncle, but if there’s some freak shit going on, he doesn’t want the man who’s done so much for him to get caught up in it.

“Of course, Uncle,” he nods, glad that he’s facing the wrong direction.

There’s a whisp of warmth over his shoulder, a firebending gesture equivalent to a shoulderpat, and then his Uncle is gone.

Zuko sighs through his lips, looking down into his drawer. His clothes are a mix of pale green, spring green, vivid green, dark green, and pale yellow, and he’s not supposed to wear the pale yellows often because it draws out his Fire Nation features. He leans down, picking out a pale green, lightweight pair of baggy pants with dark green ribbon that will hold it correctly, and a loose, open-in-front matching shirt. There’s a dark green silk belt that he also grabs, tying it around his waist to hold the shirt in place. He undoes the ponytail that his hair had been in, ruffling and mussing it before pulling it back again, just as high. He slips the black ear plugs that fill his stretched ears out and replaces them with a smooth emerald set, one that he’d saved for a long while for.

He thinks that he probably looks fine. Earth-nation-y, despite his telling golden eyes, at the least.

There’s never any hiding his draconian status.

It’s fine. It always is. It always has to be.

He picks up a few small pouches from his drawer, hooking them into holes on his belt, then opens yet another, this time pulling out a garter to slip under his pants over his right leg. Well-held blades of different types of blades encircle his thigh. He grabs another, slipping it on as well. Each, on the outer end, holds a thin dao sword, the tip ending just before his knee. The pants, thankfully, go down to mid-calve. He tightens the ribbons that enclose the fabric around his legs, finally satisfied.

In each of the pouches, different items dangle. One holds coins, another dice, and the final, teabags. It’s probably a strange assortment, but it’s what he’ll need for the rest of the day ahead of him.

Leaving his room, he takes one last glance around. Light falls from an open window on the far wall, his bed neatly set with its green sheets smoothly pressed. All of his items have been put away. The trapdoor is hidden under his drawers. His desk holds books and papers, pens and progress. He’s satisfied. It’s inconspicuous enough.

He lets the door fall closed. He supposes that he won’t be returning until the morning.

The Day of Renewal, and its concurrent Spring (Renewal) Festival, is one of the many wonders of Ba Sing Se that Zuko continues to find himself enraptured by. It’s in every breath breathed in and exhaled out. It’s in the opening and closing of the heart valves, the beating of the pulse beneath one’s skin. It’s the final breath of the dying passing through into the Spirit World, and it’s the first breath of a newborn, the first cry and the first laugh and the first smile of a child.

There’s something special to be said for Ba Sing Se’s specific Day of Renewal, and he’s not sure as to whether it’s some particular ritual or if there’s just something in the air. ( _There’s definitely something in the air_ , he thinks. _It’s the enticing scent of fresh-baked pastries and sweets, veggies and meats_ ). Either way, as he steps out through the front doors of the Jasmine Dragon, he can physically feel the tension lift from his shoulders. He holds his head higher, comfortable.

Vendors selling with outrageously cheap prices line the streets throughout all of Ba Sing Se’s rings, run by families and groups and organizations. Children run and play amongst their guardians and peers. Couples, young and old alike, dance and drink. The Earth Kingdom soldiers are seen few and far between, their focus locked onto the palace and the outermost wall of the city in case of raid. This is a day of peace and rebirth.

On the Day of Renewal, no one stops or stares at the dark grey rock appearing as though welded onto his face or his draconian feet and hands, or his ear. No one questions his golden eyes so thoroughly associated with the Fire Nation. Everyone is too focused on the brilliance of one another, on bringing and sharing the joy of cycles ending and beginning.

It’s refreshing, Zuko decides, taking a sip of the (medicated, _thank fuck_ ) mint tea that Jin had prepared to-go for him on his way out. He sends her a mental thank-you to accompany his actual thank you, which had consisted of a full-on, dramatic bow.

Worry tries to creep its way up his throat again and, even as he sets off down the street in the opposite direction as the palace, weaving through amongst civilians celebrating in the most unusual colors and styles, he can’t help but think back to what she wanted him to do that night, and what that little girl had said to him earlier.

He held no doubt in his palm that the Dai Li were out and about even on a day such as this -- no, they would be _especially_ on a day such as this. The simple truth of the matter was that as a Fire Nation refugee, this beyond exactly _who_ he was, he had to keep tabs on their movements.

Sometime near their entry into Ba Sing Se, the Dai Li had gotten into contact with his uncle, though the wonderful old geezer still refused to talk to Zuko about it. All he knew of it was that somehow, some way, despite the 600 day siege, his uncle had managed to barter for their protection. Not knowing what the other end of the deal that he and his uncle must certainly pay made Zuko’s skin crawl.

It was fine. With the sun shining down on he and the civilians around him, with the joy and cheer emanating from all sides, Zuko could keep his mind stable.

He knew, of course, that after tonight, he would undoubtedly pay the price of walking through such large, loud crowds. All of the anxieties that he for now shoved down would come bubbling up. All of his worries, his fears, his – he really didn’t need to be thinking about it as he walked. His medication should be kicking in soon, and not long after that, with a little additional assistance, he’d be flying free as a bird. He just had to make it that far. Now was the time to enjoy himself.

Two real tasks aside, he had the day free. He just needed to figure out how to make the most of it.

Wanshi’s Wares was a little supply shop in Ba Sing Se’s middle ring. It was a walk to get to, but entirely worth it for what Zuko could find in the back: cheap(er) weed.

You see, in most areas of the Earth Kingdom, and on the national level, weed was, unlike in the Fire Nation, legal. However, if you wanted to buy it from upper class susses, you’d be paying upper class suss prices. Buying in the outer ring could be risky due to sourcing and add-ins and resale complications, but this place’s little dispensary in the back was solid for that it always sourced from the same vendors and provided detailed information on everything available.

As Zuko stepped in through its doors, he wasn’t surprised to see a few more customers than there ordinarily would be at once in the front. People were in and out with their jobs during the festival. It spurred shorter hours and more frequent rotations.

The year prior, his uncle had done him dirty, scheduling him in morning shift, off for noon shift, and back in for evening shift.

This year, however, was different, and he was determined to make the most of it.

Walking through aisles and tables to cross through a large door and small slope of the floor rising to the next level, he made his way to the back. The slope between the two areas had been implemented by the owner himself, Wanshi, for his son Mido, who managed the back. Mido couldn’t walk due to some birth disorder that had disrupted something in his legs, and his father had thus taken it upon himself to make their home as accessible as possible for his son.

Coming through, he took in the scent of heavy incense that permeated the room, tracing it to a burning stick over in the leftmost window. Arrays of bongs, bowls, and pipes lined the walls, tinctures, blunts, pre-rolled joints, and oils all encased in glass displays and within locked drawers. There were also glass-encased table displays (also with drawers underneath) that help creams and assortments of further products.

It was a shockingly elaborate area of the store, considering that the front sold an almost uncoordinated mix of tools and curio, but Zuko figured that hey, if he wanted to set up a shop of his own without paying as high of a price as directly buying a spot, then having a business in the same place and as an offshoot of his uncle’s would be pretty convenient.

The back probably brought in the majority of the store’s funds, in all honesty.

Today, he noted that he distinctly wasn’t alone in his appearance. To be fair, he usually did travel out closer to night, which was why there’d typically be either no or next to no customers milling around. The windows would have long been closed and boarded.

There was some tall brown-haired kid staring at the products to the right, tapping his finger on the glass as he thought, chewing on a piece of hay or something. Two others stood on either side of him, one with a hat, and the other… short. Zuko tried and failed not to squint. Did they let kids as young as that one back here?

He turned away with a shrug, walking instead to the opposite wall. He couldn’t help but feel eyes on him as he walked, his good ear catching the sound of shoes sliding in a twist over the floor. Instead, he gave a little wave to Mido, who grinned back mirthfully from behind his desk. Zuko rolled his eyes. There was no way that he wasn’t up to something.

Mido, a few years older than himself, was a troublemaker, not in the traditional sense, but very much so in the going-to-screw-with-everyone sense. The shit he pulled was lighthearted, usually, but he did have a certain… sharpness to him that let Zuko know that he really wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.

As Zuko came up upon his target, there were footsteps directly behind him. He felt his own pulse spike and he took a breath, just barely holding back from spinning on his heel. An unfamiliar hand landed on his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re cute,” a lilting voice said.

Zuko’s stomach gave an unpleasant roll. He bared his teeth and gave up, whipping around so fast that he might have given his own feet a small burn. He couldn’t _smell_ any smoke.

It was the brown-haired kid. Zuko mentally groaned. He really had wanted to just pop in and pop out today.

“Don’t touch,” he ordered, as the man took a step back instinctively, hands in the air.

He turned his chin up, making a pushing motion with his hands in hopes that the guy would get the point. He seemed to, stepping back further until Zuko was satisfied enough to turn around again.

The issue with going out on any day was that people like _that_ guy existed. Interactions with dickbrains really put a drainer on his mood.

“Hey, back it off, Jet,” he heard Mido call out. He flicked his gaze to the guy, seeing him staring at a space a few feet behind himself.

The brown-haired kid ( _Jet_?)’s eyes bore into the back of his skull. He really hoped that he wouldn’t have to deal with this for very long. Rather than wasting his time dilly-dallying and contemplating getting something different for the celebration, he decided to step away and get rid of this little problem in the easiest way that he could: just getting his usual and getting the hell out of dodge.

The Jet guy didn’t stop staring at him through his entire walk to the desk, which was admittedly very short, because it was a relatively small room, but that _wasn’t the point_. It raised his hackles.

Coming up to Mido’s desk, he let out a breath. Mido kept looking between him and the weirdo, eyes flicking back and forth. All mirth was gone.

“Just the usual today, then?” he asked, reaching into his desk to pull out a little bag. Zuko nodded, reaching into his dice pouch.

Catching on quickly and relaxing microscopically, Mido gave a laugh.

“You really can’t go one stop without luck haggling, can you?” he asked.

Zuko shook his head. It was a decided method for the two of them and a few others in their… Zuko really didn’t know what to call it. When he had first arrived in Ba Sing Se, he was still recovering from his father’s Agni Kai. He couldn’t remember the journey, and had been told that he’d been unconscious throughout, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, that was a lie.

He didn’t usually have a very good lie-sense. He had always known when his sister was lying because, well, his sister always lied. Anyone else, he really just couldn’t tell.

Nonetheless, there was just something that hit him as _wrong_ in the sentiment. He hadn’t his uncle or any of the group, ex-crewmates, that had travelled with them out on it, and he didn’t know if he ever would, but it was there.

It was fine.

Mido smirked and drew up a small pouch of his own. Whereas Zuko’s dice set were made of cut emerald, Mido’s were bloodstone.

Fancy rock dice marked the group. They were the remnants of a mental support group that Iroh had managed to get him into, a service with a lower fee than straight-on therapy and less risk of him letting out too much information concerning his identity, what with the higher risk of discovery. It was a very small group, and the only reason that they had become as close as they had was because it had gone on for three years.

He personally thought that it was moreso to get him acclimated to Li’s character than any actual mental health benefit, seeing as he couldn’t actually derive direct healing for his sorts of issues from it – shockingly, he had actually gained some form of stability in its wake, though. It had helped him realize that the “firebender soldier” who had burned his face for “not supporting their cause well enough” (that had been quite the cover story, that his village had been occupied by the fire nation for longer than he’d been alive and he felt indebted for his failures) didn’t have any hold over him, and he was not, indeed, indebted to the bastard.

“On three,” Mido said quietly, but nonetheless excitedly. “One, two, _three_!”

The two rolled their handfuls onto the table, dice in green and black knocking into each other. None fell off of the desk, for once. It was time to count.

4-2-6-4-9-3-40. Zuko did a few mental calculations, adding the nine in terms of a 10-1 and the six, 5+1, the fours, 10-2. 68. He had rolled… okay-ish.

Mido, on the other hand, had rolled 12-6-5-30-3-1-3. 60. It also wasn’t bad, but typically, both of them rolled far higher.

Except the last time, that is, when Zuko’s tens roll had unironically been a solid 00.

That had been. Terrible. He’d cancelled his order that day, which had been acceptable given the drastic circumstances.

Mido leaned back, a mix of a smile and disappointment on his face.

“Well, eight percent discount for you today,” he admitted. His eyes flicked upward and he gave a much fuller grin. His teeth gleamed in the low light. “But next time, you better expect an upcount.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Zuko replied.

There was a moment of tension in the air as heavy footfalls made their way over once more, and Mido’s grin left his face.

“What the hell kind of deal is that?” Jet barked, from behind Zuko. “I’ve never seen his face around here before, and I’m a regular who buys in bulk. Shouldn’t _we_ be the ones getting discounts?”

Mido’s eyes hardened, his gaze turning into a glare as he addressed the man standing, once more, behind Zuko. Zuko turned.

“You’re a regular, now? You appeared a month ago, and prior to that I’d never seen your face. I’ve known this kid for years.” He gestured to Zuko. “He’s a friend. He gets the friend discount.”

Before Zuko could stop himself, he asked, his good eye wide, “I’m a friend?”

Mido froze, then sighed, running a hand through his messy, midlength brown locks. “Yes, dumbass, you’re a friend.”

 _Huh_.

Zuko didn’t know whether to feel proud of the fact that he had a _friend_ other than Jin or insulted by his friend calling him a dumbass. To be fair, Jin quite often did the same, though instead with the phrase, ‘stupid awkward turtleduck.’

He almost regretted letting her know that that was his favorite animal when they’d first met four years prior.

“Aaanyway,” Zuko’s attention snapped back to Mido as he started in again, sliding the package across the table. “I’ll have the usual in wait for next time, too. Pay up, emo boy.”

Zuko balked.

 _Rude_.

He pulled out a few pieces from his coin pouch anyway, placing them in Mido’s waiting hand. The guy glanced down at them briefly to count, then gave an imperceptible nod before he pulled forth and placed them into his register, printing out a proper receipt to hand over. Zuko raised a brow. When had he afforded a new register?

Mido simply quirked his lip up, evidently proud.

Zuko nodded and grabbed onto his package, hooking it into his belt before and beginning to step away, before Mido caught him again with one more question.

“Hey, your 18 is this summer, right?” he asked, nodding to himself without Zuko’s input.

Zuko confirmed it with a brief nod of his own anyway.

“Stop by on that day and I’ll give you the mandatory 18 discount. Bring a few friends, we can make it a party.”

Zuko squinted. Mido was familiar enough with him to know that he didn’t really _do_ friends. He shrugged anyway.

“I’ll try to meet some by then,” he replied, aiming his tone for good-natured.

Mido guffawed, crowing something like, “You’ve had four years and didn’t, good luck with that."

Zuko continued to squint, before suddenly, it hit him.

"We'll have to round up a gang, or something," Mido said. "Get everybody together and then talk about the real shit going on here."

Zuko's eyes widened. That seemed to pique the interest of Jet behind him, to whom Mido simply sent another short glare.

Though, if Mido of all people, paranoid as the bastard was, was willing to talk so openly in front of the guy, Zuko supposed that it was... _probably_ fine.

"I'll consider it," Zuko murmured.

Mido nodded, once, and Zuko took off. He didn’t miss the stares of Jet and his two friends as he exited, hoping that he’d never run into them again.

“Little salamander!”

Zuko is shocked at the sudden grab. He’s pulled into a familiar hug from before he can blink, strong arms wrapped around his waist.

“Ming?” he asks, startled. He’d almost grabbed for his dao.

She spins him around, uncaring that she’s now caused a ruckus in the middle of the middle ring South’s festival.

Ming, as she now went by, was one of the sailors loyal to his Uncle who’d risked her life to sail him out of the Fire Nation and into Earth Kingdom territory. Unlike many of the others, who’d decided to keep moving, she chose to join the small group of them who fled as refugees to Ba Sing Se.

He struggled to get out of her grasp, kicking back gently with his foot to her leg. She laughed, squeezing him tighter, and he couldn’t breathe, and then she released him. He stumbled forwards, whipping around.

“When will I ever find peace?” he moaned, staring her down with his good eye.

If there was anything that he wasn’t finding that day, that would be it. Peace.

Which was, of course, ironic, considering that the Day of Renewal was also generally considered to be a day dedicated to peace’s maintenance.

She simply snickered, tossing her braid over her shoulder to the back of her head. The crows feet around her eyes crinkled.

“When you finally figure out how to be intimidating instead of an edgy, lonely teaboy,” she replied.

He huffed.

“It’s a bit difficult to do that when your every day is spent serving… _customers_ ,” he defended.

“Oh?” she asked. “Then you’re _not_ training anymore?”

He looked down.

“I definitely didn’t say that.”

She was silent for a moment, then placed her hands on her hips.

“You never do give up, do you?” she asked.

He shook his head.

She tutted.

“Keep at it, then. The, ah, _flames_ won’t be held back forever.”

He blinked once, twice, then looked up at her face, staring between her brows.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Her lips pursed into a frown.

“I think that you’d better come have dinner with me and Ping, tonight,” she murmured.

He blinked again, confused. Then, he breathed in.

There was definitely something going on, and apparently this one, they couldn’t talk about in public. He nodded, raising his face into a quivering sort of smile. He hoped that it looked convincing enough to the people around them. He wasn’t great at giving and taking social cues at the best of times, or when he wasn’t trying to deliberately create fake ones.

She reached out a hand, ruffling his hair, and then her hand froze. He suppressed an inward groan. She’d know.

A small, gentle smile quirked her lips.

“Is that so?” she asked, pride shining in the eyes that he avoided looking into.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered.

She’d felt the tiny bumps beginning to protrude from his skull. Four years after his Agni Kai, and coming up on his eighteenth, he was growing dragon horns.

She drew him into another quick hug, pressing her lips briefly to the top of his head. He squirmed away, and she let him go with a laugh.

“That’s great! Although, there will be no hiding from Fire Nation refugees who notice you that you’re, well,” she gestured again, “a dragon.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t think they’ll care that much, if they’re _refugees_ from the Fire Nation,” he admitted.

She raised both of her brows and nodded.

“That’s fair enough. Those who leave the land of Ozai are typically pretty ready to abandon all of his ideas.”

He nodded. She scruffed his head for the fun of it and he snapped his jaw.

“Alright, kid,” she said, beginning to turn away, “dinner’s at seven. If you want to hit us up, you know where to find us.”

She was almost turned to go into the market that she’d turned to, when she froze and turned her head back to him.

“You _really_ don’t want to miss tonight,” she warned, her tone cold and dangerous.

He was pretty sure that his heart stopped beating, for just a moment.

Then, she brightened. “It’s a spoiler, but Ping’s cooking up something really special!”

He relaxed, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders. There was definitely something happening, but, he decided, that could wait until seven.

He had a feeling that he was going to regret putting all of these things off.

Speaking of, what were the things? He didn’t know; they were officially, he decided, _blocked_ from his mind for the time being, which made it much more confusing that he kept thinking of the goddamned King’s Library.

Everything was fine.

He still had another task to do, another run that he needed to make, before he could stop back home and take off again. He needed to pick up _his_ tea.

The pharmaceutical shop that Zuko frequented was in the inner ring, and unfortunately damn more expensive than services in the others would be. However, it was also directly affiliated with his physician’s complex and other healthcare providers, which made it well worth the extra expense with his particular needs.

Today, he wasn’t stopping by to pick up anything specific for scaling, no; he was after one thing in particular. He needed is Agni blessed T tea.

Like all nice things, it was banned in the Fire Nation, along with E tea, because the Fire Nation _sucked_ , the Fire Lord _sucked_ , and over the years, he’d really grown to understand just how not okay his childhood and the lives of everyday Fire Nation civilians were.

The gist, he’d decided long ago, was simply fuck the Fire Nation.

But, he wasn’t in the mood to follow that train of thought at the moment.

He stepped inside, biting the inside of his mouth at the chill. The pharmacy’s doors and windows were always kept closed, the temperature inside cooled by some sort of water cooling system or something… rich people could afford weirdly engineered cooling systems, apparently.

He didn’t bother spending any time looking around, instead heading directly for his prize at the back: the pickup counter.

There wasn’t a line, or any other customers in, for once, which he gave a small thanks to Agni for. After Wanshi’s, he really just didn’t want to deal with that niggling fear in the back of his mind that there were dickwads like that in his vicinity.

There was a familiar girl standing at the counter, looking bored with her head in her palm. She straightened up as he approached, giving a sweet smile.

“Li!” she beamed.

She was often one of his uncle’s customers at the Jasmine Dragon, and had thus learned his name. He struggled to recall hers. It started with an N….

He nodded in greeting, deciding to abort mission on figuring out her name, because he wouldn’t. He recognized her well enough, it was probably fine.

“Have you been in all day?” he asked, instead, hoping that it was an okay question.

She stuck out the tip of her tongue with a short nod.

“My shift ends in about an hour. No early leaving for anybody in any facet of the medical industry,” she complained.

He gave another nod. It made enough sense. Rest in peace to her.

“That’s rough,” he acknowledged.

She picked up a pen, scribbling something down onto the forms in front of her.

“Your package arrived just on time this morning,” she informed. “Your uncle already paid for the next two months, so just give me a moment to run back and grab it while you sign these forms,” she spun the clipboard they sat on to him and pushed them towards him, “and you can be on your way.”

He gave another nod, picking up the pen on his side, and set to work while she went to find his. It was a general pick-up form, acknowledgement of pay, consent, that he understood any and all side effects and agreed to get himself checked out if something went wrong, the usual. Another major difference from the Fire Nation, apparently, was the Earth Kingdom’s actually decent healthcare system.

T tea wasn’t even expensive. Nothing medical was; though, it did raise taxes, which had to be rougher on the smaller areas beyond Ba Sing Se seeing as they were at _war with the Fire Nation and had been for 100 years shut the fuck up Joo Dee._

That probably wasn’t fair to the many Joo Dees though, considering that their minds had been compromised by the Dai Li.

He absently shivered, pushing his head up a little higher, but in more of a wary than confident way. Someone entered the pharmacy’s doors. He told himself not to turn around, because there was no need for him to be acting so suspicious and on edge. He’d been working on staying calm.

He finished filling in his information and slid the clipboard back to the pharmacy girl’s side of the counter, waiting patiently. Just a few moments later, she returned, beaming once again as she handed over his second package.

“All set, then, Captain Crunch?” she asked.

He couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips. He knew that she refused to forget it, one of her many visits to his Uncle’s tea shop. She’d ordered some kind of tea and a few desserts, requested that they’d be burned a little so they’d be “nice and crunchy.”

Zuko had gone to the back to make up her order, because it was only he and his uncle on shift that day (something that he’d first been mad about, but later _incredibly_ grateful for). When he came out, his uncle and the girl were laughing about seaports something or other, and another customer had been moving his aching leg and Zuko just _hadn’t_ _noticed_ , and when he slipped and fell and the desserts made a loud crunching sound in their paper bag as they were crushed by his fist, she’d exclaimed, “Oh no! Captain Crunch!”

He muttered something under his lips that even he didn’t catch, and her grin widened tenfold. He turned to leave.

“Have a good one, TeaLi!” she called after him.

Stepping back into his room, he set both packages that he’d picked up onto his desk, then, after a deliberating moment, slipped his hand into the former to pull out a few pre-rolled joints. From here out, his day actually was open… well, until seven o’clock, that was. A brief feel to his core and its pull from the sun informed him that it was nearing four. He’d spent a little over two hours of the day since his shift had ended, and he had three hours before he’d need to be at Ming and Ping’s.

He’d have to inform his uncle of his decision, and the man either would or wouldn’t join them.

A while after that, he’d need to stop by Jin’s to pick her up.

There was a lot happening at one time. He was going to need caffeine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR:  
> Zuko: I have no friends. What's a friend?  
> Apparently, lots of people: No im friend.  
> Zuko: Everything is completely, 100% fine.  
> Apparently, lots of people: Hey wanna consider that there's shit going on that we need to Talk to You about but not rn.  
> Zuko: fuck
> 
> Also, yes, they do roll DND dice sets to decide on discounts or price raises. T tea is an idea that I got from a post on tumblr by @transastronautautistic (https://transastronautistic.tumblr.com/post/176883926626/so-ive-decided-theres-a-tea-that-uncle-iroh), but I modded the idea a bit so that instead it's being made and produced by the Earth kingdom. Let Zuko have his T tea.
> 
> Also, with Zuko and Iroh having not been hunting the Avatar the entire time, the timeline was changed and this will have effects on the plot.


	4. Dinner and a Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Zuko's ex-crewmate lesbian Aunts.
> 
> Also: Toph!

Auntie Ming and Aunt Ping’s place (Zuko was still fairly certain that they'd chosen their twinning names as a taunt, to match that they always wore the same clothing) was smaller than the place that Zuko and Iroh shared above the Jasmine Dragon. Plants and flowers covered tables, the walls, any surface within sight. The two had crafted the majority of their furniture themselves, over the years replacing what they hadn’t with new items that they had. Since moving to Ba Sing Se, the two had spent their time developing the careers that they’d always wanted: Ming was a botanist and Ping was a carpenter, though they seemed to help each other out so much that if they weren’t each becoming specialists in their chosen fields, one might not be able to tell the difference.

It was… warm, their home.

At least, that’s what it felt like to Zuko as he sat at their table, marvelling at the taste of Ping’s lemon and sage-buttered duck on his tongue. It was light and creamy, the meat itself soft as his teeth gently tore it apart. Apparently, she had also crushed the cranberry juice on her own, too.

“So, Li,” Aunt Ping started in as Zuko chewed his food. “There’s something that we need to talk about.”

Zuko frowned around the bite in his mouth. They’d welcomed him in, closed the door, locked all twenty locks on it, boarded the windows, pushed furniture up against all of it… yeah, he figured that there probably was something they needed to talk about.

To think that just a few hours prior he’d been soaking up the sun on the King’s Library rooftop, lazing around and smoking pot.

Alas, this was the life of a declared-dead Prince: wake up anxious, serve tea, get spooked the hell out of by some small child, get talked into dangerous activities by your best friend, and then have Important Talks in a dining room full of plants.

… It wasn’t that bad, all things considered.

He nodded, swallowing carefully.

“There’s been a lot of weird things happening, and I don’t like it. What’s happening?”

Ming sat her silverware down on the table, taking in a breath. Her posture straightened, her hands dropping to her lap.

“You don’t recall anything of being on the boat on your way here, from the Fire Nation, four years ago, do you?” she asked, turning towards him.

Her eyes cut burning rays into his skin. He looked down at his plate and breathed out.

“I… no,” he decided. “I don’t.”

He could still feel her staring. His skin itched.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked. “If there’s anything that you do remember, it’s probably best that you say so now, because what we’re about to discuss--.”

“I don’t remember anything,” he cut her off, his hands shaking. He clasped his hands together on the table.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “Can you look up at me, look into my eyes, and tell me that?”

He lips twisted down. Of course, she would pull shit like this. Of course she would know. Of course, of course of course _ofcourseofcourseofcourse **ofcourseof**_ \--.

He looked up, his neck bending in a way that felt awkward. He hoped that it looked natural. He could feel a ball in the back of his throat, a pressure against his spine. He fought the urge to clear his throat, and met her eyes. It was electrifying, and not in a good way. His own slid immediately to the side.

“I don’t remember anything,” he repeated.

_Rain poured from the sky. No, it wasn’t pouring, it was—it was thrashing, stabbing, jetting from the clouds above. There was a soldier holding him by his neck. His hands were tied behind his back, his ankles locked together._

_“Please, don’t do this,” his Uncle was saying, though not begging. Never begging._

_His voice was mostly calm, though Zuko could detect a hint of strain._

_“Orders are orders,” Zuko could hear the soldier speaking from behind him. “These are from the top. You know what you signed up for when you_ offered _to do this. I won’t let you fake your loyalty like you did during Ba Sing Se.”_

_There was a hardness in Uncle’s eyes, a fire. It was… Zuko was scared. He couldn’t speak. There was something covering his mouth, not a hand, not fabric; it was metallic._

_“You know that I tried my best to conquer Ba Sing Se,” Uncle was saying. “When Lu Ten died—.”_

_“And that’s why you’re trying to get him out of this! You refuse to do what has to be done. You’re a traitor to the Fire Nation!”_

_The soldier laughed. It was harsh, cruel, and cold. It burned like the wick of a candle just extinguished._

_“Enough!” Uncle growled. “I will not see my nephew dead at the gloves of Ozai’s hands like my own son.”_

_The soldier bristled. Zuko tried to drag in air through his nose as he felt the sting of metal cut deeper into his throat. Somehow, he’d forgotten that the blade was there._

_“I’m sorry, General,” he heard the soldier saying, barely able to keep track of what was happening. There was genuine sorrow in his voice._

_Lightning spiked down towards the ship. Thunder boomed and roared._

_He felt himself hefted over a shoulder. He saw the soldier’s leg rise, felt the swaying of the ship as the soldier climbed onto the railing._

_“Zuko!” he heard his Uncle cry out. Blue flames flickered like thick tongues towards the soldier and himself, orange drowning in the rain._

_The soldier didn’t jump. No… he dropped._

_And Zuko fell with him._

It was a terrible nightmare, but that’s all it was. Just a nightmare, just a dream. His body shivered. He could feel the freeze of water stab into and encase his form, his being; it got through the fire muzzle—those things were nasty, he’d once heard of a traitor who breathed fire into one only to lose the lower half of his face to the burns. It was so cold. It pierced his lungs, his chest. The liquid straining through his heart was cold and forceful, like a waterbender bending the liquid too fast and without caution, pushing against tissue and breaking it. It was beneath his very eyelids.

He breathed in and out, a flicker of fire dancing in the back of his throat. He hoped that his Aunts couldn’t see it. He brought up the fabric of his sleeve to his lips, brushing it against them. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, _one_ , _two_ , _three_ , and reopened them. The two of them were looking at each other from their positions across the table from one another, seemingly having a silent conversation with their eyes.

He would never be able to do the same with anyone. But, he supposed, that was fine. Anything was fine as long as that nightmare stayed what it was: a nightmare.

Finally, Aunt Ping looked back to him. Her dark eyes sought his own. He kept them trained at the pink and green, long-leafed plant just to the right of her head, on the shelf against the wall.

“Alright,” she said, gently, calmly. “We’ll take your word for it.”

He opened his mouth to speak, and she brought a finger in front of her own, making avid shushing noises. He closed his mouth, and she dropped her finger. He opened his again, and she brought it up, glaring. He closed his mouth and relaxed back into his chair, crossing one ankle over his other before the sensation hit him and _no_ , that very much was not going to do. He parted his legs in a loud display of manspread.

He nodded in relief. After all, he was telling the truth.

Ming gently reached for his forearm, and he flinched. She stroked her hand downward, clasping his two hands in her own.

“Li,” she said, bringing his attention fully to herself. “There are some… things that changed, a small time ago, that you need to know.”

He raised his eyes, focusing on her nose. It was a tiny nose, button-shaped. He lifted his eyes again to the bridge between her brows. That was… hopefully better.

“The Avatar is alive.”

He blinked.

“And… why is that significant?” he asked.

She watched him, silent for a moment, as though contemplating. Then, her hands squeezed his before letting go.

“One hundred years ago, Fire Lord Sozin attacked the Air Nation temples, killing off all peoples of the Air Nation. None present at the attack escaped. It was genocide.”

He nodded; this was old, if horrible, information.

“The new Avatar, as rumor has it, is a twelve year old, and an airbender.”

He twisted his head to look to Ping, who was watching his face with a strange expression that he couldn’t place. Noticing that he was looking back, she nodded, before turning to Ming. Ming was, to Ping’s knowledge, telling the truth. He decided that for now, he’d listen.

Ming started in again.

“They’re travelling with two members of the Southern Water Tribe, both older than himself… relatively speaking, if you knock off the hundred years. All three are young. One is a waterbender.”

“That’s impossible,” Zuko cut them off. “The last waterbender of the Southern water tribe was arrested and killed within the last decade.”

Ping shook her head.

“No, Li,” she interrupted. “That is what the Fire Nation thought, but they were wrong. We don’t even know if that woman had any relation to the waterbender travelling with the Avatar now.”

He stared down at his food again.

“But… what does it matter?” he asked. “The Fire Nation is going to win this war, one way or another. They’re too close to lose now. I… I’m going to have to leave anyway, once they make it into Ba Sing Se.”

It was that which he had been training so hard for, after all.

A lone dragonfire against an island would become a lone dragonfire against the world.

“I don’t think, well,” Ming gave a glance at Ping, and then her glass, and then Zuko, before she laughed. “Well, that’s definitely true. I don’t think.”

Neither Ping nor Zuko laughed. She sobered up quickly.

“What I mean to say is,” began again, looking to Zuko, “you might not have to anticipate that any longer.”

His breath caught in his throat. She had no idea what she was talking about. Before he could protest, though, she continued.

“The Avatar is strong, _Li_ , stronger than you or I or anyone today might even be capable of comprehending. Ba Sing Se will probably fall before all is said and done, but that won’t be the end of this.”

Her eyes had hardened again as she was speaking, and something determined strengthened her voice.

“I’m not saying that you should stop training, because you shouldn’t. I’m not saying that you should stop anticipating disaster, because you shouldn’t. However,” she reached for her hands again, clasping them and this time bringing them towards her. Her eyes met his dead on, trapping him, encasing him. He was a child surrounded by a ring, no, a sphere, of fire, and her gaze was suffocating him, cutting off his air. “You can have hope that things will get better soon.”

Ping snorted, breaking Ming’s attention. She looked away, and Zuko was released.

“Hope that things will get worse and then better,” she murmured, stabbing her portion of duck with a utensil.

“That’s fair,” Ming accepted, all of the intensity leeching from her voice like the dying flame of a burnt-out wick.

She stuffed her face.

“You said that the Avatar is twelve years old,” Zuko murmured.

Two heads perked up, their attention directed to him again. Ming swallowed her mouthful and nodded.

“No twelve year old is going to be able to change the direction of this war.”

Ping rolled her eyes.

“Kid, what did we just tell you?” she scoffed. “They’re the _Avatar_. Besides, that they’re already traveling with a waterbender. They’re hardly on their own in fighting.”

He kept his gaze on his food and was silent, thinking.

“Maybe I should join them, too,” he murmured under his breath.

There was the sound of a glass shattering, and he looked up to see that Ping had dropped her glass.

“Maybe not yet,” she retorted. “We have no idea where the Avatar is, right now.”

Ming nodded frantically.

“Besides, you still need to keep training. Oh! But if you keep training hard, you might be able to help teach them firebending.”

Zuko bit into another bite of duck.

“Maybe,” he responded.

There was a brief silence, and then:

“One more thing, Li,” Ping froze the table once more.

Two faces full of food turned towards her.

“Admiral Zhao of the Fire Nation navy was charged by the Fire Lord with hunting down the Avatar. However, he’s not the only one.”

Zuko squinted; he’d never even heard the man’s name before. He’d probably been promoted multiple times within the years that Zuko had been ‘dead.’

“Your sister is now said to be scouring the face of the planet, as well, searching for them. She…,” Ping scratched her arm absently, “well, the Avatar has been making stops in major cities and areas. If they come to Ba Sing Se, she will most likely follow, if not set up here beforehand.”

There was dead silence. Zuko swore that he could hear the dust in the room as it landed and made its home on plants.

“It’s a good thing that we have the Dai Li, then,” he responded.

They wouldn’t hold up against his sister, if she had done even half of the training that he had in last four years, he knew.

However, Ming merely laughed.

“I suppose that is true. After all, they’ve covered our asses since we arrived here.”

If that came across as strange to him, he wasn’t going to comment.

That was all that they spoke of it for the rest of the dinner.

Jin was waiting outside of her home with a smile on her face when Zuko finally made his way over, a few hours later.

“You ready for your first Blockbuster?” she asked, grinning as she jumped him.

Her arms wrapped around his waist and she squeezed, his very breath leaving his lungs.

“If you let me go--,” he tried.

She squeezed harder.

“Yeah,” he finally answered.

She let go and they took off walking. Lanterns lined the streets, lighting them with a pleasant, warm glow. Far above, the stars shone in the clear night sky.

It kind of reminded him of their first date, back when Jin had liked him.

“So, I got more information on the new fighter,” Jin started, after a while of walking in silence.

“Oh?”

Zuko didn’t even try to keep the curiosity out of this voice. It was always good to know who was strong in your vicinity.

“Yeah,” Jin continued. “She’s called the Blind Bandit, and apparently competes in a lot of these in the city of Gaoling.”

“Gaoling,” he repeated, testing the feel of the word on his tongue.

The night air tasted clean, free of any of the smoke and heat that had followed his crew on their way through the--.

No. They were dreams, that was all.

Gaoling. Gaoling. He had heard of the city multiple times, but he couldn’t remember it as having any significant military significance. No, the area was known for wealth, but the civilians weren’t particularly wealthy, though the area was well funded and cared for. No, Gaoling was home to.

“Beifong,” he realized aloud.

Jin turned her gaze on him.

“Hm?”

He blushed. Now, he’d have to explain.

“The Beifong family rank among the wealthiest of families in the Earth Kingdom,” he steadily spoke, recalling the words that some tutor had drilled into his head to try and keep him afloat nearing his father’s first assassination attempt on him, when he was eleven years old.

In hindsight, the tutor had probably known. Either way, his for-once perfect recollection had still failed to impress his father enough for the man to not try for his life.

Just normal, happy family things.

“They’re not as rich as the Earth King in Ba Sing Se, nor the ‘King’ in Omashu, but they’re truly not far behind. They have homes all over the Kingdom, though for the last decade or so, they’ve been staying put at their villa in Gaoling.”

Jin turned her eyes to the sky.

“Huh. The more weird facts you happen to know,” she commented.

He turned his gaze to her face sharply, but her face was neutral, even relaxed.

“Li,” she returned, having apparently noticed it, “you’re like a living thesaurus for the most randomized knowledge of major and minor events and things. It really makes one wonder where you picked up on all of this.”

He stared straight ahead.

“I go to the King’s Library a lot,” he simply replied.

At that, Jin laughed. He looked over at her again, curious.

“What?”

Her laugh turned into a snort before it stopped.

Was it something that he’d said?

“I did see you up on the bridge earlier today, though I don’t think that’s what you mean,” Jin laughed.

He paled.

“I—you—what?” he stammered.

“Idiot turtleduck,” she teased, stepping in front of him and putting her hands on her hips, bending teasingly into his personal space.

He went rigid.

“After my shift ended, unlike a certain _someone_ , I decided to enjoy the festivities on ground level. It just so happens that I glanced up, and guess who I saw lazing about on the front bridge of the Library’s roof? Did you think you were out of sight?”

“I was out of my mind, at the very least,” Zuko muttered.

“Oh, believe me,” she teased. “That much was more than clear.”

He glared at the seventh street lamp before them.

Suddenly, Jin grabbed onto his arm, starting in a run. Almost falling as he adjusted to her pace, he clamored with her.

“Why are we running?” he yelled.

“Because it’s fun!”

Running all the way to some mysterious back alley door and then climbing down a dark staircase that twisted and winded throughout the city’s underbelly was not, Zuko decided, fun.

Well, actually, it kind of was. He’d never admit it, though.

The two stood in a large room in the tunnels, trying in vain to catch their breath. Jin was bent with her hands on her knees, grinning that unnaturally huge grin of hers through the gusts of air that she sucked in and exhaled.

Zuko caught his breath much quicker, due to his breath training for firebending. He rose back to his full height almost immediately, as though he’d never had a shortage.

“You,” Jin commanded, poking him in the chest with her pointer finger, “are going to have to teach me how to do that one day.”

“How to do what?” he asked dumbly.

She stared at him, disbelieving, then gestured to his chest. He kept staring at the space between her brows, confused.

“ _Breathe_ ,” she finally answered.

“Ah, that,” he replied.

Jin stared at him for another moment, then turned around, throwing her hands up into the air.

“’Ah, that,’ he says,” she cut out, “as though he didn’t just run a few motherfucking miles and then clambor through tunnels of staircases while barely breaking a sweat, and with _full lungs_ almost the entire time.”

He shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. She started towards one of several doors. The lamps on the walls flickered in time with his breathing.

“Are you coming?” she asked, tilting her head ever just so slightly back in his direction.

“Err- yeah,” he said, starting in behind her.

They kept walking.

They kept walking until they took a wrong turn and entered through the doorway of a ginormous cavern of shimmering, purple-blue rock.

“So, I think we went the wrong way,” Jin admitted, not in the least bit fazed.

Zuko stared into the cavern ahead of her. It was a sheer drop to the ground, probably near seventy meters—and above them, the walls of the cavern still rose high into the not-sky.

“Where are we?” he asked, enchanted.

She turned towards him, waving a hand in his face.

“If I had to say, Old Ba Sing Se. There’s supposedly an entire city sunken down here somewhere. That’s not our goal today, though.”

He shook his head, breaking himself out of the spell.

“Wh-What?” he asked, gesturing to the magnificence now behind her. “Do you even see how amazing that is?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I said when Longshot showed me it, too. Now let’s turn back, I just made the same wrong turn that he made.”

He turned his full attention to her, dumbfounded.

“Longshot?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Some guy I met a few days ago, the one that I went to the last of these with. He’s a refugee here in the city.”

He heard the unsaid _like us_ , but still crossed his arms suspiciously.

“And?” he asked.

She bit back a sigh, brushing past him and back the way that they’d come.

“I’m not into him or anything, no need to get all protective or anything,” she muttered. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t swing any which way.”

She didn’t sound disappointed in that, which quelled at least some of his worries. She brightened like a lightbulb, seeming to think of something.

“But, he sure did find the interesting shit in the city fast.”

They took the opposite turn that they had taken to reach the cavern. He added the juncture to the mental map that he’d started of Ba Sing Se’s underground the instant that they’d entered the tunnels. According to Jin, many false doors lead downward.

It was another ways of walking, twisting, and turning before they finally found what they’d been looking for. They walked through a large, smooth archway, into a large arena, complete with rows upon rows of seating all leading down to a crater in the ground, upon which rose a large platform. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Earth Kingdomers sat upon in the circle of rows. Many more large archways seemingly lead outward. They were all chattering, and it was just. So unbearably _loud_.

He absently slipped a hand into his pocket, thumbing a token that he'd picked up from his room between his aunt's and meeting with Jin.

Jin grabbed for his arm again, tugging him along.

“Let’s find a seat!” she beamed.

Finding a seat proved really simple when she just sat down at the very edge of the highest row, back against the wall, right up next to the door. All was fair, though, he supposed, when immediately thereafter the platform began to shake, and a cloud of dust rose above it; giant cracks formed from the center, and up and out of it burst an Earthbender. He leapt straight up into the air, bending the dust and the earth that formed the platform back into its perfectly smooth, prior state.

The crowd cheering, their voices and applause magnified in the circular cavern.

“Benders and nonbenders!” he greeted. “Spirits and fae! Weres and… other beings!”

Jin poked him with her elbow.

“He could really improve on ‘other beings,’” she commented.

He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I know.”

 _I know very, very well and personally_ , he left out.

“Today is the day! The new beginning!” The stageman announced. “The fresh start to our new--! Wait, technically, that was yesterday as of a few hours ago.”

He coughed.

“Regardless. As your announcer for this year’s Blockbusters tournaments, I would like to invite you all to a moment of silence to commemorate those who have fought and died for the thing that we’re not allowed to talk about.”

 _Way to say ‘elephant in the room,’_ Zuko thought to himself.

Regardless, all members of the audience bowed their head. Zuko supposed that he should do the same, considering that he very much no longer supporter the Fire Nation after his father--.

Nope, he was not going there at a time like this.

In fact, it would be great, he thought, if he _never had to go there again_.

Well, until the Fire Nation overtook Ba Sing Se. Then, and only then, he would have no choice but to confront his problems.

Many as they were.

Someone poked him in his left shoulder, gesturing for him to move. Zuko didn’t lift his head, but did the same to Jin. They slid down, and the stranger slid in next to him. Two others followed.

“Hey, thanks,” the guy loudly whispered.

Zuko shook his head. This was supposed to be a moment of silence.

The moment ended, as was cued by the raising of the stageman’s head, and Zuko looked up to see a familiar face, one that he’d swore he never wanted to see again.

It was that gross Jay guy from earlier that day. He made a face.

“Ew, you,” he commented.

Jay gave him a sardonic grin, sticking out his tongue. Was Jay even his name? Zuko couldn’t remember and didn’t care to find out. He grabbed Jin’s hand, rising to his feet. She looked up at him, curious, and then over at the people to his left. The stageman was still speaking, something about Avatar this or that. Zuko supposed that he really should have been listening, but he couldn’t for the life of him process just what the man was saying.

Oh well.

“Li, sit down,” Jin whispered angrily. “At least on the other side of me.”

He shot her a worried look. She tugged his hand to the side, and he squinted. Finally, he sat.

“Do you know them?” he quietly asked.

“The guy on the end is Longshot,” she explained. “The short one’s Smellerbee, she’s cool. The guy you were sitting next to’s name is Jet.”

His lips twisted down at the reminder of the guy’s name. She snickered at him.

“Don’t like him?” she asked.

“He’s gross,” he shot back.

He squeezed her hand, silently asking if she wanted them to switch places back.

She frowned at him, her eyes concerned.

“What’s wr--?”

“Hey, Jin,” _Jet_ cut in.

She turned to him, her attention shot.

“Hey, Jet,” she hey’d back.

Zuko pursed his lips. He’d just have to pretend that Jet didn’t exist, while also making sure that he act… weird, like he had in the dispensary. This was fine.

The two continued to talk, Smellerbee brought into the conversation every now and then. Longshot remained quiet, his gaze affixed on the match now taking place down below. Zuko could respect that.

An outrageous amount of matches went by just like that. Occasionally, either Jin or Jet would try to pull him into the conversation, but he vehemently refused by pulling his knees into himself and keeping quiet. Maybe if he breathed out a flicker of flame Jet would get the hint.

He was inwardly debating actually doing it, despite all dangers present (and wow, there were many considering all of the Earthbenders present, the fact that they were in a large underground cavern, and the only ways out were stone tunnels), when the stageman came back on stage and loudly announced, “and now, time for what you’ve all been waiting for! Straight from Gaoling, a true earthbending _monster_ :,” he gave a dramatic pause that Zuko highly appreciated, “the Blind Bandit!”

The audience roared, cheered, and whistled. Many began to stomp their feet on the stone beneath them. The cavern itself began to shake. Then, suddenly, with the crowd still stomping, it all went still and silent.

A giant statue of a beautiful woman rose from the floor, her hand placed just below a spinning egg-shaped stone, as though she were the one levitating and spinning it. She was massive, likely fifty or so feet of rock; giant sutures of purple stone like that which had been in the cavern woven through her form, in some places jutting out, but in ways that almost seemed… artistic.

A large crack broke through the woman’s gown, splitting her from bottom to top, and she parted in a haze of dust. There, she lingered for a moment, broken, and then she sunk down, quicker than the smooth movement of a whip, the dust billowing after her, suckered down like the stageman’s, and the stage was smoothly set.

There, standing just where the woman had been, was a little girl.

Zuko couldn’t believe his eyes. It wasn’t just any girl; no, that was the child that had visited his Uncle’s teashop just earlier that day, the one who’d told him about some dude named Luna in the King’s Library.

What had her name been? Had anyone ever mentioned it? His heart had somehow risen into his throat. Anxiety clawed at his skin from underneath, and he rubbed at the engraved surface of his token harder, digging his claw and spinning it through its design.

He suddenly very, very much wanted to know. If she were the one who’d bended that statue and sank it, then she would… probably be fine, but….

“The blind bandit is just some little girl?” Jet caterwauled, indignant.

“That can’t be right,” Jin murmured. “There’s no way that--.”

As she spoke, the girl’s competition appeared, dropping from the sky of the cave like some kind of monkeybat. Just when it seemed as though he were going to dive into the platform headfirst (earthbenders did some crazy shit, Zuko had long since realized), the stone rose beneath him in the form of a muscled man, catching his hands. It was nowhere near as detailed or refined as the blind bandit’s had been, but Zuko figured that all things considered, it probably didn’t need to be. The man flipped himself over the statue and crushed it back into the platform.

“You have an eye for design, girlie,” the guy cackled, turning to face her.

“And you most certainly don’t, if that deformed mess was the best that you can summon,” she sassed back.

He took a step back, taking in a deep, fake gasp, his hand lingering over his chest.

“Oh! The root is thorned!”

“Hell yeah it is! I’ll fucking spike you!” she threatened.

The stageman backed off, leaping off stage. The two competitors circled each other on the platform.

“That shit just isn’t right,” Jet murmured, follow quickly by a distinct, “Ouch!”

Zuko glanced over to see that Smellerbee had dug a tiny knife into the thick pants of his thigh. He decided that she knew her shit, though… he had to agree that a child fighting in a competition like this _definitely_ was off.

Then again, he’d had half of his face burnt off and been exiled at the tender age of thirteen. She’d be fine.

He distinctly ignored how the prospect of exile just didn’t sound right even in his own metaphorical ears.

He hadn’t even realized when the earthbenders had begun moving.

The not-kid, Zuko had entirely missed his name, leapt into the air again, supporting himself with a giant stick of earth to propel him higher, faster. He just barely managed to catch the faintest hint of a smile on the girl’s face before she took off in the direction that he’d come in, the ground rising behind her in large spikes. They twisted and writhed, one jolting the man’s foot—instantly, the others surrounded him, crushing him before a gigantic slab came up from behind and crashed into the two, breaking through them. The pressure shoved the man out, sending him straight out off of the platform and down into the crater surrounding the platform. Instantly, the stone levelled.

Zuko watched with wide eyes as one after another, earthbenders of all practices were beaten off of the platform. The blind bandit smiled through the entire show, never batting a blind eye.

Finally, the stageman came back up upon the stage.

“Well, that was quite a show, young one,” he spoke loudly, clearly, for all to hear. “What do you say we open the stage?”

The audience inhaled one collective breath. No one made a sound.

The stageman turned around, spun in a circle, rising on a pillar of earth.

“What do you say?” he asked again, this time to the crowd. “Do any of you think that you can take her?”

Immediately, people began to holler out. Surely, _surely_ the great earthbenders of _Ba Sing Se_ could take on a little blind child? Zuko somehow didn’t think they could. He glanced over to Jin.

Her eyes were wide, her smile something unnatural. She looked… enthralled.

“This is the greatest day of my life,” she whispered under her breath excitedly.

He quirked a brow, turning his attention back to the stage.

That was when the girl spun, her own brows furrowing, and shouted out just one word, a warning:

“ _Siege!_ ”

Immediately, uniformed soldiers in cloaks of dark green descended upon the audience. The little girl herself didn’t sink into the ground as Zuko expected, instead leaping off of the stage. A large mound of dirt and stone beneath her feet rolled her away faster, through some door lower in the cavern.

In the next moment, Zuko understood why: the Dai Li rose from under the earth.

He grabbed Jin’s hand, tugging her away from the door closest to them. She stared at him with wide, scared eyes.

“Everyone’s going to be running for the tunnels,” he tried to shout over all of the yelling. “Follow the blind girl!”

Then, they were moving. He didn’t look back to check whether or not Jet’s trio were following. He didn’t care to. Though, he later supposed that Jin must have.

Dragging Jin through the throng pushing the opposite way as him wasn’t working, which was why he lifted her onto his back and leapt across the shoulders of the people below him. If he was endangering lives, right now wasn’t the time to care; surely, the Dai Li already knew who he was, and by association, they would soon connect Jin through him.

That didn’t matter, though. They weren’t paying him any attention, which meant that he wasn’t their target. It almost seemed as if they were… searching.

On the shoulders of those below him, he made it to crater-level in record time, though he was disappointed to see the obvious bending of the exit that the blind bandit had created.

“There’s no way through!” Jin yelled.

Zuko looked around him. No one was paying attention in the slightest. He readied his breath—and then, he stopped.

He stopped because Jet had been right behind him the entire time, and now he was watching. Staring, really. Like he was seeing a ghost.

Pushing that thought aside for now, Zuko shook his head, and instead leaned forwards, allowing his right leg to rest behind him. Then, in one smooth motion, he flipped himself over, claws digging into the dirt, and kicked the earth in.

It had only been a thin layer of stone that the bandit had bent, and it cracked under the force of his unnatural— _shut up, mental Uncle_ , he inwardly cursed, _that’s not what I mean, I’m fine_ (he wasn’t) — strength. He pushed himself upward as though he’d just done a burpee, then gestured to the exit.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, quietly, and they went.

Throughout the strange twists and turns that they took, often digging into the dirt quite literally when the tunnel closed in to that requiring a crawl, as though the entire thing had been dug on the fly by the little girl herself.

_(It was so small and so tight and Zuko definitely wasn’t purely focusing on his breathing in order to keep from outright panicking, there was no way the Dai Li would bother following them through this, it was so enclosing like the icy chill of water but still thankfully away and he had to keep feeling ahead to make sure that he was moving, and progress was so slow, but he couldn’t actually tell, and--)._

They made it out in what Jin, Jet, and the others estimated to be mere minutes, surfacing only a little ways away from his Uncle’s teashop.

“Well, that was certainly something,” Jet commented as he pushed himself up out of the hole in the ground.

It was strange that the girl had left it open. Perhaps she’d somehow known that they were following her.

But that should have been more reason to close it up, surely. Zuko couldn’t really think of anything creepier.

“Whatever,” Zuko heard himself say, autopilot taking over as he tried to reassure himself that everything was fine. “I think we should all go back to our homes.”

Jin nodded thoughtfully, reaching out to draw him into a hug, her front to his back. He grit his teeth, a shiver of revolt running down his spine.

Yeah, touch was not so great at the moment.

Seeming to pick up on this, she immediately released him, apologizing with a discreet bow of her head. Zuko nodded to her quickly over his shoulder.

Observing this, Jet commented, “Looks like they can’t all be winners, Jin. You should hang out with us more instead.”

She frowned, turning around and pointing at him.

“Oh? And just what have you been up to that caught his attention in such a negative way, anyway? _Li_ here can usually deal with the most _obnoxious_ people full stride.”

Jet threw his hands up in the air.

“All I did was flirt a little!” he excused himself.

This wasn't great. Zuko wanted out.

Jin placed her hands firmly on her hips.

“Oh? And how’d you manage to mess that up so badly?”

Zuko placed a hand on her shoulder, hating the feeling of another person. Nonetheless, he steeled himself, figuring that it would be better to deal with this now than later.

“It’s fine, Jin,” he murmured. “Leave it be.”

That certainly hadn’t been what he meant to say. Jin spun around on him, a worried look on her face and—nope, he was not dealing with this right now.

“I’m… going to head back to Uncle’s,” he decided, spinning on his heel and immediately walking away.

He could hear her exhale, but she let him go.

They all did.

… She was probably vehemently motioning for Jet’s trio not to follow him, which he supposed that he would later have to thank her for.

He seemed to owe her a lot these days.

In the left garden of the Jasmine Dragon, a girl stood waiting. He would have entirely passed her by had he gone through the front entrance, but as it was, he’d planned to scale the building to get to his room for ease of travel.

She stared at him with milky blind eyes.

“So, the blind bandit?” he asked, slowly.

“You don’t know shit,” she immediately cut back. “Why did you follow me, teaboy?”

He allowed himself the absolute tiniest tongue of fire, just a tiny flicker between his lips, calming himself. She didn’t notice. It was either that or she didn’t care.

“I figured you were heading out,” he answered.

She huffed.

“I could have closed the entire tunnel behind me, as though it had never even been there.”

He didn’t dare to close his own eyes, though in that moment, tired as he was, he wanted to.

“But you didn’t.”

She huffed again, crossing her arms.

They were silent, at a standoff. Then, she quirked a brow.

“My mother will be bringing me back here again in the morning. Try not to let anything slip, or you’ll be buried before you can even spark.”

He froze, still as the dead.

“You- what?” he asked.

“I just threatened you, jackass,” she explained. “Missy Mommy can’t know shit about this, and you aren’t going to tell her.”

He blinked rapidfire, trying to wake himself up.

“I’m not a fire--.”

“Yeah, you are,” the girl cut him off. “Clawed feet, in the shape of a reptile’s, but with more of a bony arch. Clawed hands, much the same. Pointy ears, giant incisors.”

She tilted her head to the side, as though she were contemplating something.

“Tiny baby horns, probably not yet broken through the skin.”

His lungs had decided to no longer function. He supposed that comparatively, that was probably fine.

She walked over to him, closer, closer, closer, until she was standing directly in front of them. Then, not tilting her head to face him or anything—probably for flair, she whispered, so quiet that even he almost couldn’t hear it, “If I didn't know better, I'd say you're the dead dragonfire Prince.”

She suddenly clapped her hands together.

“The air is awfully warm over here, anyway! Probably remnant of how this area is directly facing the sun during the hottest part of the day, nothing at all to do with a _warm_ person overheating while clamboring through a tiny tunnel for the last… well, you can probably keep track of time better than I.”

Suddenly, she sank fully into the dirt, disappearing entirely from sight. The grass moved back into place around her as though nothing had happened.

Zuko was about to move, well, if he could, which was debatable, all things considered, when her head suddenly popped up in front of him again. He barely contained his shriek.

“Oh! One other thing,” she quickly said with a genuine smile, “your plants will be fine after I earthbend out of here. Goodnight!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jet's probably noticed that something's off.
> 
> Comments feed the blind bandit. The more comments, the more chaotic energy she builds.


	5. Agni's Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MaiMaiMaiMaiMai.
> 
> Oh, and the Beifongs go home.

In the relative safety of the night, under a small alcove in the woods, Mai sat down to cast her spell for what would be either the next or final time.

It had been years to trying and failing to reach out to Zuko. No combination of identifiers could pick out his trail, her own initiative not enough to find the royal. It had taken an encounter with Agni themself in the Spirit Realm to finally put her on the right path.

She’d been using the wrong herbs, seeking with all of the wrong markers.

More than that, witchcraft was banned in the Fire Nation, just like every spiritual ‘combat’ that wasn’t Fire Bending. Even so, Mai had trained in secrecy. She trained with her knives, with the mud that she slung as though it were still at Zuko’s face like when they were kids. She learned spells from traditional songs carried down through generations. She couldn’t train often, but she had.

And with barely any less frequency, she trained herself in specifically searching.

When Azula had found out, at first she’d been outraged. At the time, Mai had thought it strange that she hadn’t been yelling, that she’d been keeping just as quiet as the ants running along the ground. But then, she’d seen the servants nearby. Once they left, Azula had hugged her.

Now, technically, she was supposed to be searching for the Avatar, but it wasn’t as though Azula would be able to tell the difference even if she were to come and spy. And even if she were, Mai had a feeling that just like her artificial anger as a child, she’d be relieved beneath her ire.

Setting the pieces upon her obsidian dock alight with a small match, Mai closed her eyes and breathed in.

Within a single heartbeat, Mai had entered the Spirit Realm. She opened her eyes, noticing that she was, this time, in a very different location than her entry point. She seemed to be in some sort of peasant bedroom, the room itself much smaller than those of her noble home. She looked around. There was one open window on the wall, its curtains closed and billowing in the breeze that lazily drifted in. The room was bathed in shadow, but she could still make out the desk with two brown paper packages and piles of scrolls, both furled and unfurled. There was a door on the opposite side of the room as the window, cherry oak and closed. The walls were either a light green or blue.

Drawers lined the wall with the window, though there was nothing set atop them. The only lamp in the room sat in the corner of the desk. There was a black and green circular rug on the floor. Curled up under the pale green or blue comforter of the bed, one Zuko lay in the fetal position, his visible eye open wide.

There were some… differences that Mai noticed, as she walked around the bed, that had occurred since she had last seen the Prince. His ears were longer and scaled, starting red and ending blue at the tips. His earlobes had been stretched. His fingers bunched in the fabric in front of his face, clutching it just above his nose. His fingers, at least so far as she could see, were red and scaled, as well. She couldn’t tell if they were clawed or not.

She raised her brows. Perhaps Azula hadn’t been making things up, and he was a salamander, after all. But, were he a salamander….

She shook her head, bringing her focus back in. That didn’t matter. She couldn’t _see_ what did matter, though. She couldn’t see the burn that Azula had told them about at the bonfire a few nights prior, because the left side of his face was pressed fully into his pillow.

His right eye just kept staring, unblinking. It was unnerving.

She watched the blanket rise and fall ever so slightly with his breathing. Every now and then, his breath hitched. She wondered what he must be thinking about, so late at night… or well, early in the morning, perhaps, seeing as her crew were currently quite westward and through the window curtain, she could just make out the moon’s position in the sky.

 _Ah_. She could use this to figure out his location, if she wanted to be smart.

Truth be told, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to be, though. If she were, Azula would want to know where he was. Azula still believed him dead.

She sat down on his bed, leaning back against him. He didn’t respond at all, which she had expected. Very few had the gift of seeing those who traversed in the Spirit Realm while they were.

The door creaked open. It was with that knowledge, that whoever was there wouldn’t see her, that Mai didn’t respond.

“Li?” an aged, tired-sounding voice asked, before it abruptly cut off.

She turned her head, then froze, shocked to see a pair of golden eyes in a deeply wrinkled, familiar face staring directly at her. She immediately stood. Zuko still didn’t respond, not even to the old man, which was concerning. She had more immediate fish to fry, though, dropping her hand to his head in a gesture that she hoped was comforting even though he wouldn’t be able to feel it.

“You’re one of my niece’s friends, aren’t you?” the old man asked.

She was silent, for a moment, and then her gaze turned accusatory.

“And you’re the dragon of the West,” she cut back.

The old man nodded.

“Yes, though you can just call me by my name, young miss,” he replied.

She grit her teeth, not sure of just what to do.

“I would stay and chat,” she said, “but my spell will burn out quite soon.”

He stared at her for a moment, pensive, and then nodded.

“That’s quite alright. I’m sure that he would be happy that you visited, could he know.”

She shifted her weight onto one leg.

“And why isn’t he responding to you, right now?” she asked, her tongue sharp.

The old general let out a sigh, coming further into the room.

“My Zuko is a troubled boy, more so than you would remember,” he began. “A lot has happened that you haven't been privy to. That aside, he’s had a very rough day. I’m sure that you remember that he responds to difficulties differently. ”

She gave a short nod of understanding, concern playing across her features.

"There’s too much that has happened since you two would have last met for us to go over now, if you’re worried about your spell running out. You were one of his sister's friends, weren't you? I believe I know who your parents are. You're... determined, to have found him after all of this time."

Mai let out a sigh.

"Where are we?”

At that, the old man went silent again. He turned around, his hand on the doorknob, as though to leave. She took a step forward, this time through the bed.

“General!” she admonished.

He looked back over his shoulder.

“If you want to know where we are, you merely need to look outside,” he told her.

Her spell ran dry.

Mai opened her eyes, breathing out the smoke that her body had inhaled while she’d been gone. She looked up at the sky, seeking the moon.

She had a hunch, but before she settled on any particular idea, she’d need to check Azula’s map.

* * *

Opening the restaurant on no sleep was one of Zuko’s least favorite things to do. Yet, he did it nonetheless; his Uncle was old and needed more sleep than he did any day.

In the early morning, ‘early morning’ referring to six, things were slower. A few coworkers came in at each half-hour, the first at the same time as himself to help with opening, until there was a rotation of five that would carry the morning shift.

At around seven, more customers began to show, sleepy from their prior day. It wasn’t until eleven o’clock that the little girl and her mother came in again.

Zuko almost (almost) let one of his coworkers take their table, but decided against it at the last moment. If he was in denial that the entirety of Ba Sing Se knew who he was, well, that was fine. He wasn’t about to let her go snitching.

“Welcome back to the Jasmine Dragon!” he greeted, his smile genial. “What can we make for you today?”

The woman stared at him quizzically.

“You must have been out late last night,” she commented.

He froze with his smile still plastered over his face. Then, he relaxed, chuckling gently.

“Yeah, a few friends of mine and I went out.”

“I heard that quite a bit was stolen from this area,” the woman continued, as though he hadn’t even spoken. “You’ve got eyebags for days. Is that dirt on your arm? You shouldn’t be working in a place like this.”

Zuko felt his smile become ever so slightly _more_ plastic.

Just who, exactly, did this woman think she was?

“I will go wash my arms, if that is true, ma’am,” he simply responded, not entirely sure if that was the correct thing to say.

He looked down at his arm. He didn’t see any dirt, which made sense considering that he had _just showered_ an hour and a half prior and hadn’t taken to the gardens yet, but he did see a bruise. His opinion of the woman continued to freefall.

She huffed, looking instead at her daughter.

“Peasants like you never learn, even when your job is service. I won’t stand for any dirt in my daughter’s food. She’s _blind_ and wouldn’t be able to see it, don’t you understand?”

He tuned out the rest of her very long rant, wondering when he’d get back to serving the other customers, surely there were too many for his coworkers to handle without him, nodding his head after he left with a short, “my coworker will bring you two a few glasses of water while you make your orders.”

“Oh! But wait,” the woman said.

He rolled his eyes into his head behind his eyelids before turning his head back to her over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asked, no longer physically able to keep the impatience out of his voice.

She blinked, clearly taken aback, and then shook her head slightly.

“My husband will be joining us today, as well, so make that three glasses, if you would.”

He gave a short nod, then went on his way.

The blind bandit approached him in the garden again.

“What do you want?” he asked, cringing at his own tone, this time as he watered his plants.

She crouched down in the grass, sticking her fingers into the dirt. He sincerely hoped that she had already eaten her order.

“You still haven’t gone to the library,” she said, instead of answering his question.

He rolled his eyes.

“No, I haven’t,” he replied. “It’s been one day.”

She made a sound of acknowledgement in the back of her throat.

He moved on to the next species of plant.

“Well? What do you want?” he prompted.

She tilted her head as though to look up at him.

“There are so many things that I just don’t understand about what’s happening, and I should,” she complained.

He kept watering.

“My parents think that I’m this soft, frail little girl, but I’m not. They refuse to talk about anything of significance at the table or when they think that I’m around. I would never have even heard of you if they didn’t constantly underestimate me.”

He kept watering, and frowned. His watering can would soon be empty, and then he’d have to refill it.

“And you, I don’t even understand how you do it. Somehow, you managed to get yourself declared dead to the world, and are living it up in the capital of hostile enemy territory. No one likes the Fire Nation, yet you’re being allowed to exist here. Everyone knows who you are, but they act as though you’re just some teaboy called Li.”

“I am just some teaboy called Li,” he retorted.

She laughed.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point, and you know it.”

His can ran dry. He wondered if he could get away with using it as an excuse to run away and not listen to the little girl’s problems. He had too many of his own to worry about already.

“So why do you keep coming after me?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“You tell me. You’re the one who decided to follow my tunnel last night.”

He closed his eyes, breathing in and out.

“Last night, I was looking for the best way out of a situation that turned very dangerous, very quickly. You seemed like a strong bender.”

“I’m the strongest bender!” she proclaimed.

He raised a brow.

“The strongest earthbender, at least,” she allowed. She perked up. “But I _will_ be the strongest bender!”

“Not if the Avatar’s around again,” he muttered under his breath.

She froze.

“What?” she asked.

He, too, momentarily froze, then he shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing,” he lied.

She grimaced.

“I thought fire was supposed to always tell the truth. When it exists, it burns, and that’s just what it does,” she muttered angrily, sounding for some reason, of all things, betrayed.

“That doesn’t mean that people are the same,” he responded, recalling _Azula’s_ many lies.

_Azula always lies._

She seemed to think on that for a few moments, playing with the grass in front of her. Then, she gave another shrug.

“That’s fair enough. I should know better than to assume,” she admitted.

He wondered what that meant, then decided that he didn’t care.

The Beifongs, Zuko noticed, only came on sunny, clear-weathered days.

“So, what’s up with that straw guy who keeps following you around?”

Zuko stumbled, falling to his hands and pushing himself back up. The little girl who kept watching him garden, apparently one Toph Beifong, laughed at his misery.

“What straw guy?” he asked, brushing himself off with a frown.

“The guy who’s always chewing on a piece of straw. What’s his deal?”

 _Jet_ , Zuko instantly connected, grimacing. He really didn’t want to know and hoped that he wouldn’t have to find out.

Zuko wasn't the only one that Toph liked to talk to. It was as he was coming into the tea shop for a noon shift one day that he caught her in the kitchen, excitedly chattering to his Uncle and the other cooks and servers, that he realized just how much she liked it there.

"Good vibes," she later told him.

He wasn't sure that he understood her slang, but he figured that on some level, he at least got the 'good' part.

After that, there were many instances in which he found his Uncle slipping tidbits of proverbs out near she and her parents' table. He couldn't contain his sighs any of those times. His uncle beamed at him.

They were in the garden again.

“Why don’t the Dai Li ever come after you? You’re a Fire Nation Prince, whether you’ve been declared dead or not.”

Zuko sighed.

“I… don’t know.”

There was silence, and then:

"Well, I'm glad. I've decided that you and your uncle are family now, even if I'll have to leave soon."

He was conflicted.

"If you pronounce your name as 'Lee,' then why was that girl questioning you for spelling it as 'Li'? Not that I would know the difference unless you carved it."

Zuko sighed.

"Irony."

“I really don’t want to go home. Dad’s almost finished with negotiations, meaning that we’ll be leaving soon, but I never want to go back to Gaoling!”

This time, Toph didn’t stand by while Zuko watered his plants. No, this time, she was helping.

“Why not?” he asked, before mentally kicking himself.

Of course, she didn’t want to go back. Her parents sucked. Her _life_ there sucked.

It had been a week since the day she’d first stepped foot into the Jasmine Dragon. He still hadn’t gone to the library.

“If you don’t want to go home that badly, then why are you going home?” he finally asked.

She froze. Actually, he was pretty sure the whole world froze, save for the air itself, which blew a pleasant breeze through the grass around his feet. The moment ended. Toph laughed again.

“That’s cute.”

His lips twisted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’ve dealt with them for fourteen years, and I’m going to have to keep dealing with them, regardless of how much I’d rather not.”

He glanced up at the sky.

“Why?”

She gave yet another, definitely fake, this time he was certain of it, laugh.

“Seriously?” she asked. “You don’t understand?”

He dropped his face to his plants. This time, he was the one who crouched down, taking the long leaf of one into his hand and rubbing it between his fingers, testing its durability and enjoying the smooth, non-fibrous texture.

“No. I don’t. You’ll have to explain it to me,” he apologized, canting his head downwards as had been beaten into him by his father. “I’m sorry.”

She was silent for a moment, and he heard her come up beside him, also crouching down.

“My parents are some of the wealthiest people in the Earth Kingdom,” she began.

She paused for a moment, as though expecting some sort of reaction, but if she did, Zuko didn’t know what it was. She continued.

“Outside of earthbending touranments, I didn’t step foot outside of my parents villa until I was twelve, and even since then, steps outside have been sparse. I’ve never had any friends. I wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

Zuko blinked. That would make a lot of sense. He’d really lucked out, hadn’t he?

“That’s why I keep asking you how you ended up here,” she explained. “The whole world thinks that you’re dead, save for the customers of the Jasmine Dragon. None of them have even said a word. I… I want that. I want this past me to not exist, and a new me to exist somewhere different.”

Zuko’s eyes widened.

“Toph, are you--,” he started.

A dirt-coated finger was shoved in front of his lips. He made what was sure to _quite_ an expression and tumbled back to avoid it.

 _Gross_.

“No, dumbass. I’m fine. Or, at least, I will be.”

“You… will be?”

That definitely wasn’t reassuring.

Toph nodded.

“I can’t run away from here, because the Dai Li will find me,” she said calmly. “However, once I get back home….”

“Didn’t you just say that your parents are one of the richest couples in the Earth Kingdom?” he asked.

She shushed him with a loud “sh-shs-sh-sh-shh,” sound.

“Yeah, and they’ll probably send bounty hunters after me, too,” she added to her earlier statement.

Zuko’s eyes widened.

“Are you crazy?” he asked.

Toph nodded definitively.

“Oh, definitely. But,” she paused. “Do you remember that statue that I raised after the Renewal Festival? At that competition?”

He nodded, taking note of how quietly she was speaking. He figured that he should probably quiet down, as well. He probably should have long ago. Whoops.

“I can bend earth, I can bend stone, and I can bend gemstone,” she boasted.

He raised a brow, wondering where she was going with that.

“I just wonder if I could bend metal.”

His good eye widened, and he glanced over at her. There was a certain… something to the smile on her face, that made him wonder if perhaps that idea of hers was rhetorical.

“That’s impossible,” he said, fully aware that she could and probably would take that as reason to prove him wrong.

The blades against his thighs shifted without him ever moving.

“There’s earth in even the most purified of metals,” she explained. “I’m thinking that if no one else has figured this out yet, or have managed to do it, and I can feel the earth around me, then perhaps were I to get my hands on something, no one would be able to stop me.”

Zuko would later remember that conversation. At the time, it had just been intimidating. He never forgot those words, though.

Not with the pair of pure diamond dao and the blue-and-white blue spirit mask, expertly _bent_ just to his liking and sizing, sitting under his floorboards.

* * *

“Mai.”

The word was sharp. It burned and crackled like the wood of the three girls’ campfire.

All three of them had a log to themselves, resting in a cold, dark forest beneath the light of the moon.

Mai looked up from where she’d been sharpening one of her daggers. Ty Lee snored on her log, her long braid twisting over it to fall against the soft earth.

“Have you managed to find them?”

Mai thought back to the night that she’d found Zuko, _finally_ , and, knowing that it was the Avatar’s group that Azula was referring to, shook her head.

“Agni refuses to show me,” she admitted.

Azula nodded, then resumed her pacing around the fire. It rose and abated with the movements of her hands. It sparked to the beating of her heart. It flickered to the breathing of her lungs.

“What about—well, you know,” she cut herself off.

For a moment, Mai was silent.

“Mai?” Azula asked, softly, stopping in front of her.

Mai flicked her eyes over to Ty Lee, who was snoozing away on her log. Getting the hint, Azula stepped aside. Mai stood, walking over to gently card her fingers through the girl’s hair, effectively waking her.

“Mai?” Ty Lee asked, sleepily grabbing onto one of her hands. She brought it down in front of her face and stared at it for a moment with half-lidded eyes, before bringing it to her lips and gently kissing it. She sat up, stretching her arms above her and her legs out with a cute yawn.

Her eyes locked onto Azula and she leaned against Mai, blinking herself to wakefulness.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Mai murmured, keeping her voice low. “But, I found something that you’ll both want to hear.”

“Oh? Is it the Avatar?”

Mai shook her head briskly.

“It’s… better. I found,” she cut herself off, gesturing to Azula.

Ty Lee stared up at her in confusion. Mai stared back, then flicked her eyes over to Azula. She didn’t seem to get it, at first, and then her eyes lit with understanding.

“Oh,” she breathed.

“So where do we need to go?” Azula asked.

Mai looked around them, but couldn’t see anyone. Still, the likelihood that Zhao didn’t have _someone_ or other tailing them seemed… incredibly unlikely.

“For now? Wherever the bison next shows,” she allowed.

Her patron god could suck her dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad sending Toph away but it's necessary so that she can come back again someday.
> 
> Comments heavily appreciated! My writing thrives off of them.


	6. Family

There was a soft rapping on his bedroom door. Zuko had been awake since the early hours of the morning, but that didn’t mean that he was going to get up. Beyond his window a thick, dark, puffy lining of clouds coated the sky. He groaned, curling up tighter under his blankets.

It felt as though sandpaper were rubbing over his skin, as though something nondescript but _horrible_ were welling up like a dark, tar-like liquid beneath his skin. He could hear birds chirping faintly from beyond his window. Why did he leave it open, Agni fuck, _why_?

“Li?” his Uncle’s voice called out. “Are you decent?”

He stuffed his face into his pillow in response. His Uncle knew that he was awake; firebenders rose with the sun. It would make enough sense that he might not be sure as to whether or not Zuko was dressed, but honestly, after four years, he’d probably learned the pattern that if Zuko wasn’t on morning shift and it was a cloudy day, he was just laying in bed, and nothing short of the Fire Nation or the Dai Li kidnapping them was going to get Zuko to move.

“Li?” his Uncle called again, this time sounding concerned. “I’ll give you to the count of thirty, then I’m coming in.”

Zuko huffed, deciding that he was most definitely _not_ getting out of bed for whatever this was, whether that would be undignified or not.

Ever true to his word, his Uncle started counting. A beat after thirty, the door to Zuko’s room opened.

“You’re still in bed? It’s half to noon,” his Uncle gently chided, coming over to lay a hand on his shoulder.

Zuko withheld the urge to bite, but only just barely. His Uncle was still talking. He probably should have been listening, but he just couldn’t. It were as though his Uncle’s words had suddenly just garbled into another language that he couldn’t understand. It was frustrating on top of everything else. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was just… inconvenient. It was another reason that he always failed, and why he himself was and would always be a failure.

His Uncle withdrew his hand, muttering _something_ that sounded kinder than Zuko deserved. He just breathed, trying to take comfort in the rise and fall of his own chest, trying not to _hear_ his own blood rushing through his veins, regardless of the truth that he couldn’t _actually_ hear it anyway.

His Uncle withdrew from the room, but didn’t close the door, returning an unknown amount of time later and setting a tray of… something, but Zuko could hear him set the tray down, onto his desk, before leaving and letting the door fall shut.

He shifted, extending his legs, and then promptly decided that that had been a mistake as the texture of the fabric rubbed his skin, just, so _wrong_. It were as though he could feel each and every thread against one another, even though on his legs, he probably couldn’t. He didn’t like the position that they were in, now. He kept them there regardless, because it was better than moving them again.

He didn’t know how long that he laid there, but finally, the not-ringing, the air in his ears that wasn’t actually sound, the dot of pressure deep in the front of his brain, stopped. He pushed his covers back and grimaced, sticking out his tongue on reflex; they still did _not_ feel good.

He glanced over to the tray that his Uncle had left on his desk. He’d honestly forgotten about it. He wasn’t sure how, considering that his brain had been empty save for the for lack of a better term, undercurrent buzzing.

_“One of those days, then?” his Uncle had asked. “That’s okay. I’ll be here for you when you need me, Zuko.”_

He’d used his name. He wasn’t supposed to use his name.

Zuko could feel his heart starting to beat faster, accompanied by a sudden, pointed _ache_ under his left breast. He gasped, hitting a fist up center. It felt as though he’d swallowed a cube of ice. His limbs felt… weak.

He waited for it to subside, clearing his mind before it could take off down the anxiety train. That was the last thing that he needed at the time.

There’s something wrapped on the tray, probably food, and a cup of tea with a note pinned under it. On the note, there are a few tiny bumps that Zuko can easily assume are his anxiety pills.

Those are useful.

He slides off of his bed, shivering as his thinly socked feet touch down on the cold floor. The breeze wafting in from the window is chillier than he would’ve expected, he absently notes. It’s probably due in some part to the clouds. A springtime cold front and potential storm.

His Uncle can always feel those in his old geezer bones.

He trots over to his table, swallowing down his pills with a nonstop jugging motion of his tea. He can feel his lethargy dragging him down by his shoulders, his spine, the muscles of his thighs and calves. There’s a pressure of some sort around his ankles. His eyes fall closed. He can feel himself swaying, or is that just his mind?

He drops to his knees, taking breaths in and out. Caffeine is what he needs. Yes, a fuckton of caffeine. Then, and only then, would he acknowledge the day.

Tension rumbled through the sky overhead, a flash of white bursting across it as though cracks on a large dome. Water poured, heavy and refreshing. He quickly got back to his feet, running over to pull his window shut. He flipped the latch on it, locking it to the wind.

He went down to the kitchen area in his light green pajamas.

“You look like shit,” was not the greeting that he felt he deserved at this time in the… afternoon.

Now that he’s taken the time to think about it, he’s realized that he entirely forgot to wash his face, brush is teeth, run something or other though his hair… Yikes. It was a good thing that everyone on shift was already used to his bullshit.

He glances down at his reflection in his fresh, steaming cup of mint tea, taking in his droopy eyebags and spiky bedhead.

“Fuck off.”

The coworker who’d called him out, a fellow conspirator in the ‘Ping-Ming -ing Conspiracy,’ ‘Bing’ (not Bing, even if Zuko had never been told their non-ing conspiracy names. _Fuck all of them_ ), chucked. He was probably in his mid-forties to fifties, tall, lanky, and all wiry muscle under wrinkling skin. The brows above his brown-green eyes had been singed off in a fight with another fire bender at some point. Zuko didn’t personally know the story, but he definitely knew the feeling and the… looks, that people gave.

Which, Bing had a way of avoiding that Zuko simply wasn’t afforded, with his dark green bandana wrapped precisely around his brows.

 _Fuck Bing_.

“They’re right, you know,” the gruff voice of his Uncle called out as the old man sauntered in from the lobby.

Zuko growled behind closed lips, digging his upper fangs into delicate tissue. A tongue of fire ignited just above his fleshier tongue.

“Maybe you should take a nice, relaxing bath. We can have lunch after,” his Uncle continued coming forth and setting his list of orders down in front of Jin so that she could read it off. “Back to work, everyone.” He waved his hand, dismissing them from Zuko and vice versa. He rested his palm on Zuko’s shoulder, pushing him back towards the doorway to leading to the stairs to their stead.

“After everyone goes home for the night, I have a new technique to teach you.”

Zuko froze from where he’d been taking slow steps back with the persistent hand pressure, his good eye widening. On one hand, he could _(not)_ steam at the implication that he needed to relax, but on the other, a new _firebending_ technique….

Iroh simply grinned, his eyes falling shut happily, trustingly.

Zuko nodded quickly, finally turning to dash back up the way he’d come. The door fell closed behind him. General Iroh turned back to business.

Five years’ time had done a world of difference to Zuko’s mentality, and with the freedom that he’d been supplied once safely within the walls of Ba Sing Se had come many lessons that he knew he wouldn’t have learned otherwise. With his short hair scrubbed of the prior night’s sweat and grime, his skin clean, and his scales polished, he felt mildly more prepared to take on the day.

That was actually probably mostly due to his medication, but it also felt nice to get the grossness of the prior day off of his skin.

Down in the dank, dark, dusty basement beneath the Jasmine Dragon, he swung his dao, kicked off of the walls, flung them into the creases of boards angled specifically to catch them whenever he switched between a slice and a kata.

He breathed in, then breathed out fire. His clawed feet dug into the floor. A new, fresh sheen of sweat trickled thinly down his form.

He decided that it was time for a visit to the library.

* * *

There were three girls lousing about in Princess Azula’s quarters. It was full-blown autumn in the Fire Nation, with leafs falling lazily from trees. Some, browned by death, littered the turtleduck pond that Azula’s mother and brother had so enjoyed.

At age thirteen, no longer required to return to the girl’s academy, but instead privately tutored, she found that she quite enjoyed relaxing beside it.

She would never let her father know why, of course, though she knew that he knew.

Truly, if he wanted her to forget her brother, he should have used the same medication that he used to make the boy forget his own assassination, in a much higher dosage, to erase her childhood. Although, his treason against their family had burnt it already. She wouldn’t act out.

“Azula,” Mai suddenly called to her.

She looked up from where she’d been reading a passage about the likely molecular physics behind firebending, froze her feet from where they’d been swinging back and forth in the air as she laid stomachforth on her bed.

“Mm?” she simply hummed back, not really paying full attention.

Mai gestured for her to come closer. Ty Lee, who’d been playing with Mai’s hair, pouted, releasing it and moving to the side so that they could sit in a triangle.

“I’ve learned something that might interest you, if you want to hear,” the girl responded quietly, under her breath.

Azula perked up, glancing quickly first at her closed door, then at the distance to the window. She leaned in and nodded. Ty Lee, watching her, did the same.

“Your br--,” Mai caught herself, shaking her head briefly. “ _Zuko_ is alive.”

Azula blinked once, hard, then twice. Ty Lee twisted her lips.

“That’s not a funny joke, Mai,” Ty Lee scolded.

Mai leaned back.

“It’s not.”

She lifted the sleeve of one of her arms, all the way up to the forearm, revealing long cuts on its underside. Ty Lee gasped. Azula remained still, then inhaled.

Smoke. Ash. Quite a few flowery scents that she didn’t particularly recognize. Her eyes narrowed.

“Mai,” she spoke, her voice low and dangerous, “what did you do?”

“You can’t do that to yourself,” Ty Lee interrupted, her voice rising in pitch.

Azula smacked a hand over her friend’s mouth and kept it there, staring dead straight into Mai’s eyes, trying to ignore the panic rising up inside of her, throwing her inner flame out of balance.

“You didn’t,” she argued, her voice cold and devoid and horrified all at once. “You aren’t.”

Mai looked away, to the side. Azula pushed into her space, tackling her, pinning her to the ground.

“Mai!” she yelled, suddenly enraged, yet still quiet, so as not to cause a commotion that would alert servants or guards or anyone else who might listen in. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Mai didn’t speak.

Azula sat back, her face blank for a moment, and then chucked. A few tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I won’t tell,” she promised.

Ty Lee looked between the two of them, still seemingly uncomprehending.

“Azula, that’s dangerous! She needs help!” she exclaimed.

Azula looked over at her, temporarily wordless, and then leaned in towards her ear, placing her hands gently upon her shoulders.

Mai wasn't the first witch that Azula had known.

“Mai’s not just cutting herself," she barely whispered. "That was a blood spell. She's a witch.”

* * *

In the apartment above the Jasmine Dragon, while customers milled about beneath, Zuko and General Iroh ate their lunch in peace.

“You wanted to talk to me,” Zuko murmured, sitting across from his Uncle at the low, round table that they’d placed in the main room for such occasions.

A deep, vivid green silk cloth, stitched with golden thread, adorned it. In the center sat a silver tray with a steaming pot of tea and bowls of noodles and vegetables made up very unlike the food that they served in the tea shop below their feet.

It was Fire Nation food, made and prepared the way it would’ve been were they sitting in a room garnished with red instead of green.

“Yes, nephew,” his Uncle confirmed, nodding his head with a small smile.

His eyes were too sharp. Zuko fidgeted, discomfited.

“There seems to be a lot on your mind as of late.”

Zuko nodded his head gently. It was probably an easy observation.

Sunlight steamed in from two windows along the street-facing wall, dark green curtains pushed to the sides flowing inwards with the breeze. Steam from the bowls of food floated up absently into the air. Tiny particles of dust danced lazily over the floor where the light shone to illuminate them against the wooden panels.

“Today, five years ago, your cousin died outside of these walls.”

Zuko nodded again, placing his hands into his lap.

“It was not the Earth Kingdom that killed him.”

Zuko raised his head, slowly. The light shone unevenly in his eyes, painting parts of each unevenly light and dark. The greyed pupil of his blinded left looked almost white.

General Iroh stared down into his tea, not yet lifting it to his lips to drink.

“There are things that you need to know about your father.”

Zuko waited, patient. He was quiet. Some part of his brain felt as though it were buzzing, not overwhelmingly, but lightly. It was enough for him to sink into, should he want.

“In the days following my son’s death, I learned things about your father that I haven’t felt comfortable sharing beyond a select, deliberately chosen few.” He looked up, meeting Zuko’s eyes. His own were still sharp, but dark with something that kept Zuko in place. “It’s time that you learned your heritage. Are you willing to hear what I have to say?”

Zuko looked away. His Uncle turned his face in the opposite direction, taking the weight of his searching gaze off so that his nephew could think.

Zuko turned back to him.

“Yes.”

It was one word, but spoken confidently, if quietly. Iroh turned back to him, nodding his approval. Zuko looked towards the teapot.

“You should remember that originally, it wasn’t Ozai who was meant to occupy the throne after my father’s death.”

Zuko could never have forgotten.

* * *

Azula’s older brother had been eleven, and she herself nine, when she was first became aware of the assassination attempts that had been pulled on her brother. It wasn’t outside sources that wanted him dead, though she’d longer known as much. She’d known for almost as long as she lived that her Zuzu didn’t garner any of their father’s love.

Secretly, she knew that she didn’t, either. Not truly. He loved her cunningness, her skill, her talent, her mind. He didn’t love either of his children.

Growing up in the palace, she’d always felt that something was… off. She could never quite pin it down, but she encompassed it to the best of her ability, allowed it to guide her hand. For that, she’d been praised and rewarded.

Her brother, however, didn’t seem to catch the memo. He just… didn’t sense it, didn’t pick up on it. He was hurt by it, time and again, yet he never picked it up. It was frustrating for her to watch. She tried to subtly bring him towards it, to point him in its direction, but it were as though he was blind to it. He had no sense for ‘it,’ whatever ‘it’ was.

Their mother cherished her _precious firelily_ for his inability to grasp at it. She doted on him, hugged him after he disappointed their father time and again.

Until she was gone, on the same night that Zuzu should have died. She was gone, their grandfather was gone, the words that she’d spilled to Azula would _never_ be gone, and the body of her cousin in the secret tunnels within the palace was gone.

Azula had never tried harder after then to direct her brother onto the right path, down the sensation of _off_ -ness. Zuzu was different, but there was no way that he just couldn’t sense it at all.

Alas, nothing worked. Her older brother was soft where she’d learned to be sharp, sweet where she’d learned to be cunning and clever, blatant where she’d learned to close her mouth, and trusting where she’d learned to _always_ watch and track everything.

He was oblivious and she didn’t know how to help him.

* * *

“In order to capture the throne, your Father sent out two assassins. One was disguised as an Earth Kingdom mercenary, and the other, a Fire Nation soldier. This must have been decided at the beginning of my siege on Ba Sing Se, and the assassins themselves must have been chosen soon after.”

Zuko’s heart pounded in his chest. He—his brain was empty, but still buzzing, and the light continued to dance around the room, almost matching the tempo of his Uncle’s voice.

“In the army, my son met a young woman named Eihlo. The two were beautiful together; strong, brave, the splitting image of the Fire Nation couple.

“Eihlo was the Fire Nation soldier sent to kill me, but she fell for my son. The Earth Kingdom mercenary, Xo Gu, entasked to kill my son, was entirely unaware. The two likely never met.

“There was a specific day on which Xo Gu was meant to kill my son, a specific raid. He broke through our ranks while working within an elite group of earthbenders, but Eihlo, who’d known, likely memorized, the dates—well, I say that because there were no messages found—she killed him.”

General Iroh looked up from his tea, briefly catching his nephew’s eyes, before looking down into it again.

“Eihlo had been on the brink of a change of heart. I was thrilled that my son was still alive, and gave her my blessings if she wanted to continue their relationship. That night, though, the Earth Kingdom attacked.

“Eihlo had been sent to kill me, not my son, but she had thrown my brother’s timeline off. Had Lu Ten not still been alive, I don’t think that I or any of my soldiers would have survived Ba Sing Se that night.

“It was in the midst of a fray that I saw it happen, myself. She grabbed him by the back of his head and twisted, but his neck refused to break, and he must have been on to what was happening. So, she stabbed him, right through the chin and upwards. He started to bleed out, and she finally broke him. She slit her own throat with the same dagger, before anyone could react.

“In the days that followed, I called off Ba Sing Se. Weeks of mourning in solitude on Crescent Island later, I returned to Caldera to find my father dead, his apparent last desire that my brother should sit on the throne after him.”

Zuko blinked. He’d been more than simply _aware_ of that part.

“Your mother was long gone and your sister told me that your father had meant to kill you.”

Zuko placed his hands on the table, signalling that he wanted to speak. His Uncle went silent.

“Why?” he asked. “Why did you wait four years to tell me this?”

His Uncle was silent for a moment, before gesturing to the room around him. Once more, the beauty of it all sank in: the light and dust dancing through the air, the steam rising up from the food, the thick, heavy curtains, the flowers sitting along the floor and other surfaces, the various nicnacks that his Uncle had picked up over time.

“Earlier on, you were looking for your place in the world.”

 _I still am_ , Zuko wanted to say.

“You were unsteady, drifting. You’d just lost everything that you’d ever known, as well as your own personhood in the setting you were familiar with.”

“The Fire Nation is full of shit,” Zuko cut in shortly.

His Uncle smiled without it ever reaching his eyes.

“Sometimes, some of its people can be,” he noncommittally replied.

Zuko crossed his arms, a familiar flare rising up inside him. One look from his Uncle immediately cooled it, though.

“So, why didn’t you challenge my father?” he asked, sensing that he needed to change the subject away from the potentially dangerous topic.

His Uncle was still loyal to the Fire Nation. It wasn’t that Zuko didn’t know such, but he wasn’t sure how deep that loyalty had stayed rooted, after all this time, after keeping _him_ alive.

His Uncle, who had finally raised his teacup to take a sip, sputtered.

“Are you crazy?” he asked, visibly surprised. “Had I challenged my brother then, I would have likely been killed too. He probably would have framed it as a suicide.”

Zuko frowned.

“That’s enough talking of this for now, though. We should eat, and then I must get back to work so that I can close up early tonight.”

Zuko nodded, slowly, picking up his chopsticks to go after some spicy rice.

He would have to visit the library before then.

* * *

When Zuko spoke out at their Father’s war meeting, he was burned. He was punished, with a flaming hand burning through the left half of his head, and suddenly he just wasn’t a person anymore.

He was a dragonfire. When the burning during the Agni Kai failed to kill him, his throat was slit. When the tissue in that area flared, sparked, and toughened, he was asphyxiated. He was poisoned, yet it simply burnt through his system. It _burnt_ in the literal sense, despite his lackluster firebending abilities, until it was no more and he was fine.

Nothing killed him. Nothing they tried worked. Azula hadn’t been meant to know. He finally died of burn infections. He was gone. He was gone. _Her brother was gone_.

His body was sent out on a boat to be burned and sunk. Their Uncle, who had just lost his own son, had joined it.

Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation was dead. Her father instructed her to forget that he’d ever existed, and to lie if asked about his demise.

The Fire Nation dearly valued their children. A dragonfire, though, was inexcusable, and would result in his toppling from the throne for shame.

Zuko's state of living hadn't been brought up again until the last time that Azula would meet Mai for years.

“Please. Azula, you have to listen to me. Please. You can both make it through this, we can _all_ make it through this in time, just please don’t give up on him, or on us all, _please_.”

The girl was clutching at her royal, possibly also draconian, hands with no emotion on her face, but so much fear, love, trust, and naive _hope_ roaring in her eyes.

Azula trusted her. Azula waited and listened, watched, learned, and practiced. Azula held more knowledge of her father’s treachery against their family than any other, had witnessed more than any other.

On the night that her brother had almost been assassinated by her father, when she was nine years old, she’d seen her cousin’s body in the royalties’ secret tunnels within the palace. She’d been more focused on her sobbing mother at the time. She still remembered the dagger through her cousin’s head, his broken and twisted neck.

She would always remember her brother’s terrified face as her father burnt it, too, as scales grew out from beneath the skin of his hands.

She wasn’t sure if she loved her brother or not.

Despite all of it, Azula herself was safe. She remembered that she wasn’t. As long as she followed her father’s orders, excelled above and beyond what anyone could expect, constantly challenging even her own learning curve… As long as she kept her secrets in her veins, she was safe.

She was safe until her father became jealous.

The thing was, Azula had already been pushing at what her father had learned when he was twenty when she was ten. She was a prodigy unlike the Fire Nation had ever seen before. He wanted her to beat her own records, constantly, consistently. So, her learning curve grew sharper and steeper, constantly readjusting.

Then, her father sent her out. It was supposed to be a simple mission, to check up on the newly conquered Omashu, which she’d hastily renamed the City of New Ozai.

That was when she laid eyes on the Avatar, who in their alleged return had prior been tracked solely by Admiral Zhao, for the first time. When she failed to take them, her father sent her on a new mission. She needed to capture the Avatar, or there would be no more Princess Azula, heir to the Crown.

There was a new title being passed around through the palace, whispered by the servants and the courts. Phoenix Lord Ozai, the foot of Agni.

Her brother was alive and she had Mai in her grasp, so long as she returned to get her. She needed Ty Lee.

* * *

Zuko took in a breath, standing just outside the innermost set of five large double doors leading into the great King’s Library. The clouds of the morning had long since passed, and the cup of tea in his hands steamed, warming his skin. Chatter from the street behind him comforted him, reminding him that unlike in the palace of his childhood, no one was truly alone in the upper ring of Ba Sing Se. The library itself was enormous, shaped more like the palace than the other buildings of Ba Sing Se's upper ring. White stone rose into the sky, nine stories high and far below ground. The length of the building was truly enormous. Zuko didn't even want to hazard a guess, but it had to be barely under two thirds of that of the Earth Kingdom's palace.

He entered through the first set of double doors, pushing through and bowing customarily to the guards who stood at the second, always open set. He was about to walk past them when one reached out, not quite grasping for him but trying to get his attention.

“Uh- hey!” the man stuttered.

Zuko stopped, looking at him curiously. The man held out a small leaflet, and he grabbed it, looking down at it.

“You do know that we get these in the mail, right? And that it’s not due for another _two_ months?” he asked, raising a brow pensively.

In his claws, the tri-annual _Were-Survey_ sat, dull, boring, and questionable as ever.

“Ah, yes,” the guard stuttered. “However, there have been policy changes that are attached to these new copies. We’ve been instructed to hand them out across the city, just to make sure that no one is left unaware.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes. A bead of sweat trickled down the guard’s face. Everyone was aware of the shadiness of the Survey, though like everything ‘ _strange’_ about Ba Sing Se, it wasn’t spoken of.

He gave a brusque nod and stalked off into the library.

Zuko wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to be looking for. He searched floors of dark wooden shelves and books, passed tables of curious peoples, students, kids, couples, researchers. Just as he did out on the streets and in his Uncle's tea shop, he ignored their stares.

It was at the top floor of the library that he found himself stopped dead.

He was, quite literally, stopped dead. Or, perhaps it had been moreso the world around him, as he himself could still move fine, but everything else had gone silent. The entire library was silent, in the way that didn’t breathe.

Before him, sitting at a table in the very back, beneath a circular window much higher, between two bookshelves, far from any of the non-moving people also on the highest floor, sat someone dead.

'Luna,' he presumed, _and wasn't that a cute little fake name, gave a small wave._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mai: so um, about your brother-  
> Azula: WITCH
> 
> Get ready for a very *blue* chapter ahead. Comments and feedback appreciated as always!


	7. Little Blue Girl, Little Blue Boy, the Avatar, and a Little Blue Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azula.

Ty Lee dearly loved her friends. They were, to her, two little flickering flames, one a deep violet, the other a stunning array of blues.

She loved them but she was wary of them. She loved them but she knew what they were capable of. She loved them, but for the longest time, she was scared of them.

She watched as slowly, Azula’s duties withdrew her further and further from herself and Mai. She watched as Mai grew distant, seemingly all-encompassed by her spells and knife-throwing.

In the Fire Nation, witchcraft was outlawed. The punishment for blood magic, specifically, it being the strongest way to connect to the spirit realm, wasn’t the Boiling Rock as was the case with many types. No, it was death!

She worried about them, both of them.

All the meanwhile, she meditated, she danced, she practiced. Then, one day, she, too, left.

The circus really did help to cleanse her own energy. She only hoped that her dearests would be alright without her to tug the three of them back together.

They had to be. It was… a shame.

But then, one day, they came to her. Well, at least, one of them did. If Azula claimed that Mai would soon be with them, too, who was she to question her? Even just the thought of having them all together again made Ty Lee beam.

_~~She tried not to think about how she’d been plucked away from her passion, just as Azula used to pluck little turtleducklings from her mother’s pond, leaving the mother and other children squawking.~~ _

And then, they did pick up Mai. That’s when Ty Lee finally learned the truth about the mission that Azula had gathered her for.

Chasing the Avatar was a bit like chasing Mai through the royal palace in a game of tag. You already knew that there was no hope of catching up to Azula, but Mai didn’t know her way around as perfectly. She knew the main areas, and those that Azula had shown them, but they were barely off of even ground in terms of each other.

Chasing the Avatar, they had fur to follow. It didn’t always make it easier. They all suspected that the Avatar and his gang frequently cleaned their flying beast. Nonetheless, it was easier than they’d thought it had been, which was why they kept catching up to them so often.

Their first few meetings with the Avatar and their crew went horribly. For certain, hearing Azula give her obligatory “for the honor of the Fire Nation, you will come with us,” speech had gotten old.

So had pretending.

They’d abandoned the kindling they’d been sent out with within the first month of their chase. They couldn’t speak to the Avatar with Fire Nation soldiers and so many messenger hawks around to report them.

Ty Lee deeply hoped that her friend knew what she was doing.

“Listen, Avatar,” Azula’s voice was harsh and cold, though in her palms she held the hottest flames known to the modern Fire Nation.

Mai and Azula both crouched behind her in half-bows, keeping their eyes forth and their pai sho faces engaged. In Mai’s case, the look was unreadable, blank. In Ty Lee’s, it was a smile.

Ty Lee was… nervous.

Before them, the Avatar stood in front of their two friends, a defensive mirror to Azula’s offensive. They held their staff before their self at an angle, not pointing forward as expected, but tilted as though to be spun should Azula put her flames to use against them.

Dust rose from the empty, filthy street where they’d all come face to face, rising through the air and tempting Ty Lee to sneeze. She didn’t.

“You and your little friends have caused enough trouble running away for this long. So, now you’re going to listen, or you’re staying right here in chains until you’re willing to.”

Dark bags hung under the Avatar’s eyes. Ty Lee tilted her head to the side, pensive. Their aura was… tired. Although, given how much flying their little troupe had done the last few days and nights, she did suppose that that would make sense. They really needn’t have bothered, though of course they couldn’t have known that.

There was a reason that Azula had commanded the troops her father had sent with them to return to the anti-Earth Kingdom forces, after all.

“If you’re ready to listen, be a good child and sit,” Azula ordered, the ire falling away from her voice to reveal her inner cockiness.

The Avatar simply stared at her, but didn’t say a word. Shockingly, neither did either of the water tribe cuties behind them.

None of them sat. The flames in Azula’s hands burst with new life, though she didn’t take the step forwards towards them that Ty Lee expected.

“Well, if you aren’t actively fighting me, I suppose that’ll have to be good enough. If you’re open to negotiation, I have a proposal for you.”

“We don’t want anything to do with you colonistic flamethrowers!” the pretty water tribe girl finally burst out, taking a step forwards, closer to the Avatar.

They tilted their head towards her, though didn’t motion motion for her to step back. It was… interesting. Though, it possibly did make sense, considering that as far as Ty Lee herself had seen, it seemed like it was the water tribe boy who led their little group.

“Katara,” the Avatar addressed.

Ty Lee could feel them stretching out their chi, the strange sensation wiping over all three of Azula’s triad and a little behind them. Her smile rose a little higher into a grin.

 _Oh_. Now, that _was_ interesting. They didn’t even seem to realize that they’d done it.

Azula shifted forwards slightly, evening her balance. Her feet scuffed up dirt and dust.

“You three are going to work with my group to overtake the Fire Lord’s throne. I want his head on a stick and the glory of the Fire Nation restored within this year.”

Both of the Avatar’s water tribe friends’ eyes widened, shock painting their faces. The Avatar merely gave a slow blink.

“I don’t condone violence,” they said.

Ty Lee wanted to laugh, so she did, at the same time as Azula broke.

“Now there’s no way that _that’s_ true,” Azula crowed, thrashing her right hand backwards, her fingers pulled in to form a fist.

Ty Lee shot a nervous glance over to Mai, who just behind it. Mai’s eyes were practically glued to the bright blue fire, her form tense. Ty Lee bit her lip.

“All of the damages that you’ve left in your wake, all of the lives—Fire Nation and otherwise, that is,” she crooned, then went cold once more, bringing her fist back forth, holding it out towards the Avatar, her palm open and fingers extended. “Don’t try to pull that fake pacifist persona on me. I know how you really think.”

The Avatar just stared, refusing to engage. Mai relaxed at the fire moving away from her face, then glanced over to Ty Lee, her eyes saying a silent, _You have to give it to them_.

Ty Lee silently agreed. Her heart beat a bit faster in her chest, something warm spreading under her skin. She felt… pink. Now was definitely not the time.

“What do you want, if it isn’t to capture Aang?” the water tribe boy finally asked.

Ty Lee tore her gaze away from the girl who she’d been slowly growing to… maybe… like. She refused to call it _love_ until she knew that it was safe, that they both harbored feelings.

It was too early to call it love, at any rate.

 _Squishy-ishy feelings_.

She realized, suddenly, that she’d missed out on the water tribe boy’s whole little rant. Azula didn’t seem any the more perturbed, though, so she supposed that it was fine.

“But isn’t all of this _for_ the Fire Lord? For the Fire Nation?” the boy in blue was still talking.

Azula sniffed, sticking her nose up into the air.

“ _Please_ ,” she retorted, “I couldn’t care less about the Fatherlord.”

Nobody corrected her, though the Avatar shifted. Mai met Ty Lee’s gaze once more, briefly. Ty Lee flushed.

“My father killed my brother and threatened to do the same to me. He consistently wastes our soldiers’ lives _and_ our resources. My people are starving when they should be thriving off of the spoils of war, and he just keeps getting richer.”

“Your people are starving?” the water tribe girl asked, incredulous. Something… fiery, blossomed in her eyes. It was rage. “ _Our_ people are starving! Your nation killed all of our benders and all but destroyed my tribe!”

The fire died in one of Azula’s hands. She brought that one to her face, tapping her cheek as though in thought.

“Yes, I am well aware, Southern Tribe girl,” she replied. Her eyes turned sharp, and suddenly her attention wasn’t on the Avatar. “Your nation could highly benefit from my rule if you decide to join hands with my team today. I’m starting a revolution. When it comes time, daddy won’t even know what hit him.”

“Join hands with _you_?!” the wa—Katara, Ty Lee really needed to remember their names if Azula wanted to work with them, spat. She grabbed the Avatar’s arm, and Ty Lee’s eyes widened. “Aang, let’s go.”

The Avatar didn’t move. No one did.

“Aang?” Katara asked, letting go of their arm.

“You’re working against the Fire Lord,” the Avatar finally accused.

“Yes, well, it took you long enough to get the gist of it, didn’t it?” Azula asked, glancing down at her perfect, blue-manicured nails. “You really aren’t the wisest, despite being the world spirit, are you?”

The Avatar just kept staring. It honestly would’ve been kind of creepy if they didn’t seem dead on their feet.

“What’s your plan, then?” they finally asked.

Both of the water tribe siblings’ mouths dropped open. Ty Lee suppressed a chuckle.

“Like I just said,” Azula smarted. “I’m starting a revolution. You’re looking for an earthbending master and a firebending master. I’m looking for _specialized_ forces that will follow me but act against the throne as it currently stands.”

“Are you against the war?” the Avatar cut in.

Azula grinned, sharp.

“I’m not against winning external resources for the Fire Nation, no.”

The Avatar frowned deeply.

“But I _am_ against senseless murder, and I am for restoring the balance that my great-grandfather began burning.”

“But what does that even mean?” Katara asked, her ire seemingly growing by the second.

“Don’t question me, girl,” Azula cut back. “Although, you bring up a fair point.”

She stood somehow taller.

“I’m going to end this war exactly as it stands in the moment that I do. Whether or not territories are returned to Kingdoms and forces are kept withdrawn _after_ I settle into the throne all depend on how the other Kingdoms decide to interact with my Nation as a whole. I have a duty to my people first and foremost. If the world plays nice, we’ll play nice. If the world doesn’t play nice,” a tiny blue flame danced on the tip of her pointer finger, “then we’ll take what we must.”

“Is it just me, or does that not sound reassuring in the least?” the water tribe boy asked.

Ty Lee, done with the crouching shit, leapt to her hands, handwalking over to him. He withdrew his boomerang, holding it in front of him as though to ward off evil.

“It’s the best offer Azula can give you right now,” she apologized. “There’s no guarantee that the other Nations will trade or interact otherwise fairly with the Fire Nation once all is said and done. We don’t want to keep exploiting you all, but for us, the Fire Nation must come first.”

He tapped his boomerang against her right leg in the air. She grinned, tapping against his forehead with it. He took a step back.

“You haven’t explained anything about these specialized forces that you mentioned, either,” the Avatar accused.

“Yeah, no, you’re not privy to that information yet,” Azula agreed, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers. “You’ll know them when you do.”

“Oh, because that’s definitely not shady as fuck,” Katara grimaced.

“Language!” her brother yelled.

She punched him with a solid fist in his gut and he wilted.

“You’re evil,” he accused.

She rolled her eyes, attention fully back on Azula.

“Well?” she asked.

“Mm, no,” Azula muttered. Her eyes flicked up and she drew herself in.

“Is it a deal, or no deal?” she asked, redirecting her attention to the Avatar again. “I highly recommend that you work with me, because I’ve got resources from both the Fire Nation and soon the Earth Kingdom on my side. Who all do you have on yours?”

“Every kingdom but the Fire Nation,” the Avatar answered.

“Oh, really?” she asked, amused. “And how organized are they? How many people—no, militia, can you call upon directly and expect to help you fight off the Fire Nation _and_ my father?”

They frowned again at that, then shook their head.

“I can’t team up with you without more information,” they said.

Azula shook her head.

“You should. Nobody has to know. I’ll stop catching up with you while hunting with you, and you can challenge, but not resolve, my decisions.”

“You see, that’s where this won’t work,” the water tribe boy interrupted. “Trust goes two ways, and what you’re asking for only goes one way. We don’t even have a way of confirming that your desire for revolution is true. Besides that, from the very beginning, your story is all wrong. Everyone knows that the Fire Lord’s son died of an illness.”

The effect of his words was immediate. Azula’s gaze sharpened and a knife slid down into each of Mai’s hands.

“My father had my brother executed,” Azula spoke slowly, coldly. “It didn’t work. Little Zuzu is still out here, and I even know where. I’m going to conquer it. I’m going to use its power when I take down my father.”

She was starting a rant. Ty Lee tuned herself out, knowing exactly what effect Azula’s rants had on her energy, instead looking to the side.

There was a man standing there, his form dark against the light of the sun behind him. Not much of him could be made out, but his eyes were….

“Azula!” she shouted, pushing off of her hands and flipping back to her feet, running on her tiptoes back behind Azula.

Instantly, her friend’s rant ended, the girl staring in the same direction as she.

All was still for a moment.

“Who is that?” the Avatar asked, drawing their staff up before them, pointed at the figure, defensively.

Were they genuinely hunting the Avatar, it would have been a perfect time to strike.

“Who’s who?” the watertribe boy asked.

The Avatar saw him. Ty Lee saw him. Azula saw him.

And then, he vanished. His form just sort of flickered out, a smoke rising from where he had been.

“It… it doesn’t matter,” Azula murmured, shaking her head.

They all turned back towards one another.

“I think it does,” the Avatar argued. “That wasn’t a fireshadow like Jeong Jeong made. That was a spirit. I could feel it.”

Ty Lee looked at them curiously. It made sense that they would be able to tell, being the bridge between the mortal plane and the spirit realm. They’d probably be fun to meditate with.

“I said it doesn’t matter!” Azula yelled, throwing a burst of blue flame toward their feet.

They leapt back, their eyes wide.

“I thought you were looking for an alliance!”

“I am!” Azula yelled again.

She placed her hands on her knees, breathing in and out firmly. She dropped her head.

“Sorry. That man is a sensitive subject.”

Ty Lee danced her way up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist and dropping her chin to her shoulder in a gentle hug.

“Everything’s fine, Zula,” she whispered.

Azula nodded, tapping her head against Ty Lee’s own. Ty Lee smiled before retreating again.

“Look, are you willing to work with us, or not?” Azula asked, wrinkles above her brows suddenly creasing her face.

Ty Lee frowned. Her friend’s aura suddenly felt so much older than it should.

“We probably don’t actually need you, Avatar,” she continued, “but your title will be reassuring to many. Whether you’re with us or not, the Fire Lord is falling before the year’s end.”

The Avatar stared at her, pensive.

“We’ll think on it,” they said.

Azula’s shoulders slunk down.

“I can’t offer you information,” she admitted. “I can’t give you resources, I can’t tell you where we’ll be or what we’ll be doing in the meantime, and you’ll probably disagree with our methods more often than not.”

She corrected her posture, her prideful stance returned.

“All I can say is that all of this will be over soon, and regardless of what I have to do to get it there, I’m ending this war. My interests are in line with those of my people. I have no inclination to hold the rest of the world captive after all is said and done. I have no inclination to bring harm to you or your friends so long as you don’t get in the way of fixing what Sozin started.”

“Why would _we_ be the ones getting in the way?” Katara bit back, again. “And how do we know that this isn’t a trap? That your weird spirity vision just now wasn’t a spy?”

Azula let out a long-suffering sigh.

“I can’t speak for that thing,” she admitted. “It shows up at big events and most people can’t see it.”

“Shady,” the water tribe boy commented.

Azula nodded.

“Very. Are you with us or not?”

The Avatar stared at her for a few long moments. Then, they brought their legs up, probably airbending to float. Actually, they definitely were, going off of the wind buffering their pantlegs.

It’s not like you could see the movement of air.

“I’m with ending the war and dethroning Ozai within the year,” they murmured.

It looked like they were about to go on, but Azula cut in.

“Then our ideas match well enough. Don’t get in my way and I won’t get in yours,” she decided.

“Hey!” the watertribe boy interrupted again. “You’re not calling the shots on your own, here.”

She rolled her eyes.

“The Avatar just agreed to the little we can share about our plan. More information will be coming to you from Ba Sing Se,” she dismissed.

“The Fire Nation can’t get into Ba Sing Se,” Katara smirked.

Azula stared at her, her expression asking, _Really?_

“Try me, ice queen,” she retorted. “At any rate, that’s more than enough for you to know now. You need to find the Avatar an earthbending master.”

“Um, that is kind of what we were doing before you lot came after us,” the watertribe boy replied.

“Yes, I would assume that you’re right,” Azula agreed. “You should get back to it now.”

She turned around, gesturing with her eyes for Ty Lee and Mai to do the same. They began to walk.

Then, Azula turned her head again, stopping. Ty Lee and Mai, a few steps ahead of her, also stopped.

“Katara, Aang, and Sokka,” Azula tested, rolling the names on her tongue.

Ty Lee was impressed that Azula bothered to call them by name, though she supposed that she shouldn’t be. Typically, Azula just wouldn’t care, and in the past had only used their names when asking around townsfolk to see if anyone with the names and fitting their descriptions had passed through, not that it didn’t take a little _fire_ to get the answers that they were seeking anyway, being that no one wanted to betray the Avatar and assist the Fire Nation in their capture.

“I look forward to working with you,” Azula finally closed, and they walked away.

“So that was definitely weird,” Sokka commented, watching the backs of their prior attackers.

Were they prior attackers? Were they still enemies? He really couldn’t tell, and he distinctly did _not_ like that. Also, just what the hell had she been on about in the beginning? And, spirits? The last time he’d had anything to do with a spirit, he’d been kidnapped by Hei Bai.

“I don’t trust that,” Katara added on.

Aang twisted their lips, turning to the both of them.

“I think we need to gather more information about the Fire Lord’s children,” they murmured.

Sokka nodded his head decisively.

“Yeah, definitely. I mean, sick versus murdered? The golden princess wanting her father’s head? Just what was up with that?”

Katara was frowning, but she wasn’t speaking. Sokka narrowed his eyes.

“Katara?” he asked, tilting his head questioningly.

She looked up from where she’d been staring at some rock in the dirt.

“Let’s focus on finding Aang an earthbending master first, okay?” she asked.

Sokka bit his tongue.

“We can do both,” Aang decided. “Where’s next stop?”

Sokka abruptly reached behind his back, pulling out two scrolls: one was his scheduling list, the other a map.

“I think, since we’re close, we should maybe try hitting up Gaoling,” he decided.

Aang and Katara both moved to look. Katara nodded slowly.

“That might work. We might even be able to pick up merchant gossip.”

Sokka gave a quick nod.

“Then it’s decided. We know where we’re headed.”

Hopefully, they would find everything that they needed to in Gaoling. He couldn’t deny the feeling in his gut, though, that it would be somehow more than they were asking for.

“Alright, girls,” Azula addressed, once they were out of hearing range of the Avatar and their fellows. “I heard recently more details about Zhao’s botched invasion on the Northern Water Tribe. We already knew that the Avatar had been present, but some soldiers seem to have spread word about something _wolfy_ having been what actually drove them back.”

Ty Lee tilted her head to one side. She sideglanced Mai, watching her sharpen one of her knives as they walked.

“Wolfy?” she asked.

Azula gave a short, decisive nod.

“Wolfy.” She spun around to face them, now walking backwards. “I think that the Northern Water Tribe has a werewolf. I think that such a being would be _useful_ to my plans.”

Ty Lee bit back her sigh.

“Azula, the Northern Water Tribe just drove out a massive invasion force. I don’t think they’re going to be very interested in talking allyships with a Fire Nation princess.”

Azula only grinned.

“Who said they’ll be the ones doing the talking?”

“Okay, but what about Ba Sing Se? We already have to return to the Fire Nation to pick up the resources that you dropped off,” Mai murmured.

Azula let out a sharp giggle.

“That’ll be fine. As long as we keep feeding the monolizards and stay on task,” her _unlike the Avatar_ went unsaid, “we have plenty enough time.”

Ty Lee really, truly hoped that her friend knew what she was doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback appreciated as always! Content will be returning to ur local dragon teaboi shortly.


	8. Little Princes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a vexed dragon and a vexed spirit talk

The library was dead silent. Zuko darted back down the stairs that he’d come up, looking around wildly. All around him, the people of the library were still. It were as though they’d been caught mid-motion, statues of stone like those rumored to decorate the Earth King’s royal gardens.

He froze, suddenly finding himself sitting in the chair opposite of the spirit.

“So, you finally took up my invitation,” the spirit said. It reached out with a hand, as though to take and shake Zuko’s own.

He carefully withdrew both of his hands into his lap. The spirit’s brows furrowed.

“I can understand why you’re weary to trust me,” it admitted. “Though I must admit that I definitely wasn’t expecting this kind of response.”

It looked directly into his eyes, and he quickly looked away.

“You’re safe here. I only want to talk.”

“What about?” Zuko cut back, keeping his eyes carefully averted, his head turned to the side.

He could see the spirit grin, prideful, in the blurry edges of his right eye.

“This,” it said, and the world fell away.

_Little Zuko’s room was dark, the child himself shrouded in the cloak of night that had befallen the mortal realm, when the spirit finally made his way back to Caldera. Having ridden the back of the dragon of a traitor through the palace, his journey had been a disgrace. Dishonorable._

_It had been rather cool, though, he had to admit._

_Nonetheless, the spirit somehow wasn’t impressed. Perhaps it was the lingering rage of his demise, perhaps it was the inner horror that had replaced Agni’s flame in his chest in the moments following his death, perhaps it was the non-emotion, the sense of static and meaninglessness he just couldn’t bear._

_He’d certainly left the world in a dissatisfactory enough way. It hadn’t been the enemy who had shot him down, nor had it been accidental friendly fire. No, his neck had been broken by some bastard behind him, and as though that hadn’t been enough, the same person had shoved up through his underchin with a dagger to stab through his soft palate._

_It was efficient, if brutal; he had to give his assassin that._

_He wanted to snort. It was almost ironic, how it couldn’t have just been any assassin. It had been the very girl he’d been hanging out with between shifts, speaking to when they both should’ve been sleeping, trading meager meal items with to balance what they each found preferable._

_Now, standing just within the door of his—no longer just his cousin, but his charge, the spirit didn’t know what to do._

_The treasonous Avatar Roku had explained his duty to him, in so many yet so few helpful words that he understood the weight of his job, but not the details._

_Behind him, tiny footfalls pattered in their direction. He quirked a brow, leaning back so that his head poked out of the doorway, knife through his neck and all—it probably wasn’t the best look but he didn’t have the time to worry about learning to reconfigure his appearance just yet—to see a young girl. It was his other cousin._

_There was a strange expression on her face, gleeful, but her eyes were sharp with something fearful. He frowned as she paused just before the door, placing her tiny hands on her knees as she bent to catch her breath. She couldn’t see him._

_None of the living could, but for one, and even that, he hoped had only been but a minor glimpse._

_His father had always been strangely in-tune with the spiritual world._

_Azula stood back up, pushing her shoulders back and fixing her posture, schooling her expression, as tall as she could be for the tiny precious firelily that she was and proud. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t bother to knock on her brother’s door, instead pushing it open as though it was her own domain._

_His frown grew._

_“Hey, Zuzu,” she sung teasingly, leaning against the doorframe._

_The other little firelily all bundled up beneath his covers shifted, first hugging his limbs closer to himself as though he really didn’t want to deal with her, and then sitting up. His hair was a mess, despite he not having slept or even laid down long enough for it to muss._

_“What do you want, Azula?” he griped._

_The spirit relaxed fractionally, recognizing the sibling bickering for what it was. His shoulders drooped in relief._

_Everything was going to be okay._

_“Father’s going to kill you,” Azula sung, still with that syrupy sweet voice._

_Perhaps his cousin had done something wrong. He tilted his head to the side._

_“Shut up, Azula!” the boy yelled with no lack of ire, grabbing a pillow and throwing at his sister._

_The spirit blinked in alarm. Azula merely chuckled._

_“I heard it myself, Zuzu,” the girl continued. “Father’s really going to do it this time. He’s actually going to kill you, and there’s nothing mommy will be able to do to stop it.”_

_“Shut up!” the kid repeated._

_The spirit raised his brows. Something didn’t feel right about this, about either of his cousin’s tones. His uncle certainly wasn’t the nicest father, that he knew, but he cared about his children. The spirit remembered their collective family days on Ember Island, running around while his dad hoisted his cousin up in his arms, teaching the child how to build sandcastles. He remembered Agni shining down on them all, the waves of the beach lapping at his feet as he dug his feet into the sand._

_He remembered his dad’s wide grin, a smile that he hoped he wouldn’t have to see again for a long while._

_There was someone else coming closer. He wondered how he hadn’t heard them._

_“Azula?” a woman’s voice asked._

_He turned his head and there, standing directly behind him, looking at her daughter rather than noticing the spirit before her, was Ursa._

_“Why are you bothering your brother? It’s past time for bed.”_

_Her eyes flickered over the pillow discarded halfway across the room, then to Zuko, then back to her daughter, who raised two fingers to point, as though she were about to bend lightning._

_“I was warning Zuzu that Father’s going to kill him tonight,” she announced in her determined baby voice. She turned her face back to her brother. “I was about to tell him that maybe if he runs fast enough, he’ll find some nice Earth Kingdom family to take him in.”_

_The spirit’s blood—or lackthereof, ran cold. From the expression on her face, Ursa’s had, too._

_“What?” she asked, grabbing her daughter by her stubby little arm._

_“Hey!” Azula cried out, indignant. “Let go of me!”_

_She banged a tiny fist against her mom’s hand, much like a kitten swatting at—well, anything that moved._

_“Come with me,” Ursa ordered, “leave your brother alone.”_

_She dragged the little girl out into the hallway, allowing her son’s door to fall shut. The spirit hesitated, not sure whether to follow or to wait._

_If he’d waited, he might have been able to keep the pillow from pressing down on his cousin’s face. If he’d waited, perhaps he could’ve prevented the slow suffocation of his charge, so close to death when it was finally violently repealed._

_Instead, he watched as Ursa moved through the Royal palace’s tunnels by the small, flickering flames in her palm, her daughter kept right by her side._

_He watched as she held her in front of her, with only Azula’s tiny light flickering between them, and ordered her, if her Father ever came after her, to run. He watched as the eyes of a tiny child, only nine years old if he remembered correctly, widened in fear and disbelief as the danger that she lived in was revealed. He watched as his aunt held her daughter in her arms and sobbed._

_Still in that disconnected, static state, he watched as his cousin’s eyes met his own, for the first time that night, and still as they immediately slipped away._

_He listened to his uncle’s admission, he burned with the knowledge that it was his uncle who had ordered his death. He listened to his aunt bargain, pleading with her husband to kill his grandfather, Azulon, and spare her son, and then watched his grandfather die, half an hour after the contents of a small glass bottle had been emptied into his wine. He watched his uncle’s family commit the highest treason._

_Then, he watched his uncle kill the very assassin that he’d sent after his own son. He watched Ursa run, a body bag hoisted over her shoulder. He watched them tip some sort of weak medicine down the kid’s throat. He watched as Prince Zuko woke up in the morning, memories of Azula’s visit that night present, but memories of his own assassination attempt gone._

_He watched the child run up to his father, crying, asking where his mother had gone. He watched his uncle walk away._

_He watched his aunt die. Her neck was snapped cleanly in a way that his own hadn’t been, her stiff and gray body broken at its joints, methodically twisted and severed at each individually, the skin of her face peeled free, discarded in the filthy, polluted waters surrounding Jang Hui._

_It was morbid._

_His own existence felt morbid._

_He visited the Fire Temples, sat in Roku’s chamber, and waited._

_“So, do you understand your duty yet?” the elderly Avatar asked, tipping his head to the side with a gentle smile._

_The spirit shook his own, slowly._

_“You want me to watch over my young cousin and guide him, but you haven’t specified how or to what ends.”_

_The Avatar’s smile dropped a bit, even from his eyes._

_“That’s unfortunate. Perhaps you should stick around Caldera for now and wait until you understand before you run off to learn the spirit world.”_

_He bunched his hands into fists, impatient._

_“I am dead. I owe nothing more to the mortal realm. My uncle has overtaken the throne and my own father has given up on his conquests. He’s not even pressing a challenge to Ozai!”_

_“Are you perhaps angry with your father?”_

_His father was mourning. The spirit closed his eyes and took a deep breath, out of nothing more than habit. He held it in him for a moment, then released it, opening his eyes and unclenching his fists. Around him, the rich reds and golds of Roku’s temple were beautiful, Agni’s light passing through and illuminating them in shades of colors and intensities that he doubted the mortal realm would ever witness._

_“No,” he admitted, his voice and expression both much softer. He could never be._

_“You want revenge against your Uncle,” Roku murmured._

_The spirit gave a small nod of acknowledgment. The Avatar stood, turning around, leaving his back open._

_“You’re not alone in that desire, you must surely know,” the old spirit informed him._

_He ran a hand through his hair, newly released in his last attempt at reconfiguring his appearance. The dagger still remained._

_“I do.”_

_There was silence. He was unwilling to discuss what the Avatar surely must be hinting at. He was loyal to the Fire Nation, through and through, even if the Fire Lord could burn._

_Avatar Roku released another sigh, and then sat down again, crossing his legs as though to meditate._

_“Upon second thought, perhaps you should leave Caldera,” he instructed, not turning. “Return in two years’ time.”_

_He could hear the smile in the man’s voice with his final words._

_“In this ‘downtime,’ you should traverse and learn the spirit realm. The knowledge that you gain, how to manipulate both the spirit and mortal realm, will be vital.”_

_The spirit left._

_He could have kept running. It was only on some sense of Royal duty to the Fire Nation that he returned, in exactly two years’ time, no longer with the fear that held that dagger through his head._

_He’d learned much in his time away, of both the spirit and mortal realm, of the true faces of the kingdoms outside of the Fire Nation’s propaganda._

_His loyalty to his own remained steadfast. He had nothing else to go on._

_Exactly two years’ time was late. His cousin was a dragonfire, a descendent of one of the many draconian races of which his own father had claimed to kill the last primary of._

_His father was a liar and his charge was no longer his cousin._

_He couldn’t ignore the pain, the turmoil, that seized his core as the traitor continued to burn through his own child’s face, though._

_He stood in the back of the crowd and watched as his Father turned his face away, as his true cousin, Azula, stared onwards with a terrified grin._

_He could see from many angles, as a spirit. He wished that he couldn’t, as he watched Ozai from the dragonfire’s own eyes._

_He laid a hand on his Father’s shoulder. The man stiffened but didn’t move away. He also didn’t look to see who it was._

_That was all for the better, though. The rest of Fire Nation nobility and military already thought that General Iroh had gone senile._

_Orders were given time and again for the young ex-Prince to be killed, failing each time. It was decided in the War Room that he would be sent out on a ship to the emptiest waters , surrounded by a legion of no less than six others, south of the Fire Nation and still Northwest of the Southern Pole, and all would sink._

_The spirit’s father offered to go and was bid immediate, express permission, even allowed his own choice of crew. It couldn’t have been clearer that the other Generals and his own brother wanted he and his loyals dead._

_Out upon the cold, freezing, storming sea, seven Fire Navy boats sank, and a great, clawed serpent with the eyes of Ursa stole the crew to safety, coughing, sputtering and hypothermic, while his cousin bled out in an old, abandoned Water Tribe ship, half buried between sheets of ice._

_Lu Ten returned to Cresent Island once more._

Zuko acclimated to the sudden change of surroundings by gasping out and jumping up higher onto the chair he was on, sitting with his butt on the chairback and his feet on the seat. He quickly folded the papers that he’d been given into his pocket.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, crossing his arms as he was released from the vision.

Lu Ten only smiled, which only seemed to infuriate the boy.

“I’m not—him, anymore,” he added.

“Oh?”

It was a single worded question, yet it hung in the air, heavy as the boulders that earthbenders threw.

“You’re not ‘deceased’ Prince of the Fire Nation, Sozin Zuko?” the spirit asked.

Zuko’s face turned red with rage.

“Fuck you!” he yelled. “Absolutely not. Fuck the Fire Nation.”

Lu Ten tipped his head to the side.

“Fuck the Fire Nation, or fuck your dad?”

“Both.”

The spirit seemed to think on that, allowing his eyes to fall shut as he drummed lightly on the table with his fingers. Zuko pulled his legs up to his chest, his frown deepening.

“Why are you here, spirit?” he seethed.

Lu Ten would’ve bet a gold piece that were they on the mortal plane, fire would’ve licked from his tongue.

He shrugged.

“I’m just here to update you on the state of things, as my father clearly hasn’t been.”

At that, Zuko’s face blanked.

“What?”

Lu Ten threw his hands into the air.

“Fire Nation politics. World news, unabridged by the Dai Li. Your sister.”

There was that frown again.

“What about my sister?”

Lu Ten breathed in, held it, and slowly let it out. Of course, that’s what his cousin would be most concerned about. He remembered him from his days back at the palace.

“Not too long ago, maybe three or so weeks ago, your sister struck up a deal with the Avatar to kill your father.”

Zuko tipped his head to the side.

“That does sound like something Azula would do.”

Lu Ten wondered if he was truly as disinterested as he played at being.

“Your sister seems to be planning on conquering Ba Sing Se in the name of the Fire Lord, then turning around and taking Earth Kingdom soldiers straight through Caldera.”

Zuko bit his lip, keeping his head tilted.

“Still sounds like her, but she won’t get in,” he commented.

Lu Ten let out the sigh that he’d thus far held in.

“Oh?” he again prompted.

“If my Uncle couldn’t get into Ba Sing Se, then Azula definitely won’t be able to. She’s just crazy,” Zuko offered.

“You haven’t seen or heard from your sister in years,” Lu Ten replied. “Are you sure about that?”

Zuko leaned back, playing with something in his pocket. He brought out a little bag, rolling whatever was inside of it between his fingers.

“Yeah, pretty sure,” he answered back.

Lu Ten frowned. The boy had been disconnected from Fire Nation politics, general world politics, and really, everything but whatever his father had been spilling into his ears for almost five years.

He looked away, let out a quiet, “for fuck’s sake, kid,” then turned back.

“The walls of Ba Sing Se aren’t impenetrable, though there are other ways into the city than by breaking through. My father is working with the Dai Li and that’s the only reason that you’re living here peacefully. Both Azula and my father are vying for your father’s throne. If neither of them take down the Fire Lord, then the Avatar will.”

“And why should any of that bother me?” Zuko asked.

Lu Ten inhaled.

“You were the Prince of the Fire Nation. _I_ was the Prince of the Fire Nation. I’ve been instructed to try to get _you_ on the throne.”

At that, Zuko shot back up, snarling.

“Who the fuck said I want to sit on the throne? I’m done with the Fire Nation! They turned their backs on me, and I’m not wasting my time on them!”

Lu Ten put a hand up, as though to push Zuko back, and that only seemed to feed his flames.

“Oh, fuck you,” he bit out.

“The _Fire Nation_ didn’t turn their backs on you, the nobility and politicians did,” Lu Ten cut in. “The _Fire Nation_ wants to spread their glory to the rest of the world. They mourned you. They knew nothing of what actually transpired.”

“I’m still not giving any more of my time or life to any of the Fire Nation’s politics,” Zuko disagreed. “Surely, someone snitched. Servants must have called off to flee. There’s no way that they didn’t know _something_ was wrong, and even if they didn’t, I owe no one anything.”

“You’re a _Prince_ ,” Lu Ten growled. “By birthright, you owe everything to your people.”

“That child is dead!” Zuko snarled, staring between his cousin’s brows.

For a moment, the two were silent, both fuming. Zuko spat on the floor.

“The Fire Nation didn’t want me,” Zuko breathed. “My father didn’t want me. I’m not royal, I’m not a Prince, my name isn’t Zuko anymore, and I’m not even human.”

“And why are you letting that stop you?” Lu Ten interjected.

Zuko looked just about ready to rip his own hair out. His lisp grew with his rage.

“Stop me? You think I’m ‘letting that stop me?’” he exclaimed. “Fuck you. I’m not letting anything stop me; I’m walking away from problems that are no longer my responsibility.”

He turned his face in Lu Ten’s direction again, this time looking at his collar, and let out a hyena laugh of a chuckle.

“They never were my responsibility, though. Dragons are supposed to be dead.”

Lu Ten brought a hand up to his face, rubbing at the sides of his forehead with his thumb and fingers. He couldn’t get headaches any more, being dead and a spirit, though if he could, he was certain that his cousin’s exchange definitely would have brought one on.

“And what if they are your responsibility, though perhaps not from the angle you’re looking at it?” he asked.

Zuko slammed a fist down onto the table, leaping into the air. Lu Ten winced. On the mortal plane, that definitely would have broken it.

“The fuck do you mean?”

“What if you can restore the dragons, fix the current taxation climate, undo the damages caused to the Fire Nation by the war?”

“Again, not my problem anymore,” Zuko maintained, starting to pace between the shelves as they conversed.

“Why are you so stubborn?” Lu Ten glowered.

Zuko glowered right back.

“Because, again, as I just said, the Fire Nation is not my responsibility anymore.”

“Don’t tell me you’re loyal to the Earth Kingdom,” Lu Ten interjected.

Zuko barked, ticked. It was with a sense of fear that Lu Ten realized that he just might have hit the nail on the head.

“And so what if I am?” he asked. “What if I am? The Fire Nation has done nothing but hurt me. It’s done nothing but hurt the other Kingdoms. According to you, it’s hurting itself. So fucking what if I’m loyal to the Earth Kingdom instead?”

Lu Ten stood.

“I clearly left you on your own for too long,” he thundered. “You’ve become a disgrace.”

“According to my father, I was always a disgrace,” Zuko snapped back, without hesitation.

Lu Ten almost left, but instead, he stopped. He breathed in, calming, and breathed back out. Zuko paced in place, sticking his hands into the shelves as though to rip out books that he couldn’t even touch.

“The Fire Nation needs you,” he exacted. “Not your father, not the politicians; the people. Your sister is working with the Avatar, and that alone gives her a foot up over my father in terms of capturing Ba Sing Se, even if he has already scored allegiance with the Dai Li. She was too vague in her description of action for me to gather what her plans are, but she will be coming here. I trust my father to have a more beneficial plan of action for the Fire Nation once the throne is secured than she.

“Word amongst the spirits, though, is that Agni wants _you_ on the throne.”

Suddenly, he was standing right before Zuko. Zuko reared back, grabbing at his pantslegs to shift his swords down so that they would fall and cut through. They did and he grabbed them, holding them up between them.

“Stay back,” he ordered.

Lu Ten obeyed, though didn’t stop talking.

“I left you on your own for so long because you’re living with my father and he’s very… _perceptive_ of matters of the spirit world. I’ve gathered more information from all around the world than your father could dream of holding.”

He leaned down, and Zuko stiffened.

“Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean your agenda’s ended. I suggest that you figure out what you actually want for yourself, and learn some _respect_ , by the time you return next.”

There was sound in the library once more.

Zuko found himself staring at a shelve of books. He could hear people talking, reading, moving about quietly through the library. He was within the mortal plane once more.

He shivered, quickly resheathing his swords. He would have to stitch his pants again once he got back home. He figured that he probably really should try to find a way to discreetly carry them without letting people know, but also without having to cut through the ends of his own pants to get to them every time he needed them.

It was a great gag though whenever he needed to cut something on the street, and highly intimidating when he thought he was being followed.

He found that he really, desperately did not want to return home.

Half an hour later, with Jet and his posse following him through the middle ring, he desperately wished that he’d just gone home. He’d tried to get away. With the instant thought of _Fuck, no_ , he’d taken off down the streets. But fucking Jet took off after him over the rooftops.

“So, you work with Jin then?” the guy was asking, now that everyone was planted firmly on the ground, seemingly ignoring all of Zuko’s attempts to get him to leave.

“Fuck off,” he hissed.

“Ooh, scary,” Jet crooned.

He had been just walking. He wasn’t going anywhere in specific, just walking around, avoiding the Jasmine Dragon like his life depended on it, just walking around and vibing. Then, naturally, as was the way of the world in any situation that he was involved with, the universe turned its back to him and this fucko had noticed him.

“Are you going to leave?” he asked.

“Why would I leave?” Jet asked back.

Zuko turned away, sticking out his forked tongue. It got a few strange looks from passersby, although it seemed that he usually did, tongue out or not.

“Ooh, you could put a ring through that,” Jet commented.

He immediately sucked it back in.

“Fuck you.”

“Me and my buddies here,” Jet continued, as though he hadn’t even spoken at all, “we’re planning on stirring up some trouble tonight. You strike me as the kind of person looking to let off some steam.”

Zuko didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry, probably both. He didn’t even know the half of it.

“Wanna join us?”

“No,” he jabbed back, self-assuredly.

Jet gave him a look of disappointment.

“Aw, come on,” he begged. “We can talk about all the shit the Dai Li won’t let us get away with in public. You can have some real fun away from your Uncle.”

Zuko really wished that he would just stop talking.

“You were like, really cool at the Blockbuster, getting us out of there before anyone else.”

Zuko snorted, looking at anything and anyone else as Jet leaned in. He raised an arm as though to wrap it over Zuko’s shoulder, and Zuko immediately swatted his arm away.

Jet didn’t try again, but he also unfortunately did not stop talking.

“I met the Avatar, you know,” Jet casually dropped.

Zuko could feel his inner flame threatening to burst. He opened his mouth, then quickly closed it, resigning himself to silence.

“Come on. Just hang out with us at least one time, y’know, don’t knock it before you try it,” Jet teased.

Zuko breathed in. His left hand clenched around his little bag of dice.

He was just looking for an excuse to avoid his Uncle for the night, potential lesson or not, and here was one being offered up on a silver platter.

His eyes flickered briefly over to Jet as he weighed the pros and cons. Pros: avoiding his Uncle, and maybe Jet would leave him alone after. Cons: Jet, at night, for an unknown period of time, and doing Agni knew what.

At least he didn’t have reason to count Jet’s other friends as cons, yet, except for how they kept following them around which meant relation and…

Ugh.

Just this once, to avoid his Uncle, it would be worth it.

He hadn’t stirred up trouble in Ba Sing Se in three years.

It was an act of desperation, but despite the dishonorability of that _(like he had any honor,_ he inwardly laughed at himself) and of Jet, he’d do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof rip
> 
> warning: Nothing is as it seems. This extends to the spirit realm.


	9. When Nothing is Clear

Upon further thought while running rooftops and dropping down on unsuspecting Dai Li agents with Jet, Zuko realized something.

The way that Lu Ten had talking to him, had acted, had responded, was _off_. It was wrong, and not just in the “what the fuck is wrong with you?” sense, but the this-isn’t-how-my-cousin-acts sense.

The Lu Ten who had left to fight for the Fire Nation would never have called him a disgrace or told him that he needed to learn respect. No, the words had been eerily similar to, of all people, his father.

He suddenly freezes in mid-air, standing still upon a rooftop. Someone’s grabbing at his shoulder, trying to tug him along, but he won’t move. They’re saying something, whispering harsh words, but he can’t comprehend them.

_The spirit is in the temple, sitting in Avatar Roku’s chamber. Before he gets there, though, he’s walking, searching. That’s when he sees them._

_They can see the spirits that visit, living in the temple of an Avatar, worshipping and so close to a heat source of Agni. They can see him._

_They don’t interact. He tries not to let their pretense bother him as he sneaks in and out of Roku’s chamber again and again and again._

_He can feel something changing within himself. Perhaps he is growing stronger. He knows that he is growing smarter. For a spirit, the two are often mutually inclusive._

_He also feels a sense of hatred, boiling under his skin. Technically what he has is not skin. It’s still there, just within the boundaries of what he recognizes as himself._

_It wasn’t there before._

It’s probably fine.

Zuko realizes that there are tears running down his cheeks. Jet is in front of him, shaking him, staring at him concernedly. He raises an arm to wipe at his face, biting his inner cheek in hopes that the slight pain will calm him down.

As his heart begins to slow and the beating of his pulse in his cranium finally begins to recede, he feels a weight on his leg and looks down to see Smellerbee clinging to the thick green fabric. He gives her a wavery smile, still not processing whatever words she’s saying and not ready to speak, himself.

He looks back at Jet and gives a shaky thumbs up. Jet’s squinting at him suspiciously, then lets out a sigh, says something, and brings his arms around Zuko.

Zuko freezes again, his brain threatening thunder, and then, miraculously, relaxes.

It’s comfortable. He hates Jet and has no idea why Jet would do this, but the pressure is decidedly good.

The long red, blue-tipped whip of his tail thrashes around his leg against Smellerbee’s leg and she lets out a little screech. He gives a quiet chuckle. He can feel the tears still dripping from his eyes.

Jet says something. He still can’t tell what anyone is saying; it’s as though they’re speaking another language. Jet pulls back and there’s a pointer finger digging into his sternum and then pointing behind him. Zuko turns his head to follow it, realizing that it’s pointing in the general direction of the Jasmine Dragon. Words are still spilling from Jet’s and Smellerbee’s mouths. Zuko turns back to Jet and shakes his head. Jet keeps talking, his voice lilting up at the end. Zuko thinks he must be asking a question. He doesn’t know how to admit that he can’t tell what they’re saying.

There’s another hand on his shoulder, suddenly, and he glances back to see that it’s Longshot. Zuko can’t look at his eyes, but he hopes that he might understand better than his friends seem to. He says something, and Jet and Smellerbee both back off. Zuko takes in a breath of the fresh, night air. He relaxes.

He wants to fuck shit up.

Without further ado, and ignoring the exclamation from Jet and his friends, he takes off down the buildings as though nothing had happened. Actually, it probably looks to them like he’s running to avoid them all. _That’s probably fine_ , he thinks. It wasn’t as though he liked them in any way, shape, or form anyway. It’d be better if they just left him alone.

 _Agni_ , he thought as he pondered their first meeting in the shop, he hated Jet.

This was the third time that they’d run into each other and his opinion wasn’t going to improve. The guy was just a fuckboy. He had bad vibes.

They were still following him, silent as they could be.

In a single instance he’d turned on his heel, planting both feet firmly on the rooftop. Down on the street below them all, a single agent of the Dai Li looked up. Their eyes met.

_Well, fuck._

Zuko wasn’t stirring shit up. He was getting his shit stirred up, apparently. Which, given how the last few weeks had gone, really fit the bill.

Zuko took off again, leaping down to ground level on the other side of the building. He tore through the streets, Jet and co. in pursuit and the Dai Li agent shockingly not. Finally, he lost them.

He only realized that he was standing outside of Ming and Ping’s when Ming, having peeked through her boarded windows, ushered him in, systematically locking each lock on the door one by one after him.

She was saying something, but his brain still wasn’t processing. The back of her hand flipped up to his forehead. He frowned and stuck out his tongue. She lightly slapped his good cheek.

Both of his cheeks were good cheeks, one was just composed of grey, hardened scales that felt more like rock than scale, but had softened over the years as though to get closer to the scales that decorated his shoulders, his spine, his tail, his hands, his feet, his good ear, and really just his joints areas in general.

Maybe one day they’d be like any of his others.

Ming had cut her hair since he’d last seen her. Whereas before it had been chin-length, now it was short and fuzzy like his. She called further into the house and Ping came through, immediately fixing him with a worried glare.

They’d cut their hair the same. He tightened his jaw, levelling them both with his own best glare. Neither of them paid him any mind.

He couldn’t help it, though! It was a conspiracy against him. All of his ex-crewmates that had come to Ba Sing Se except he and his Uncle (and wasn’t that a story as to why his Uncle wasn’t in on it) had chosen names with the same -ing scheme, specifically because he had pointed out that Ming and Ping were taking their ‘ooh let’s do everything the same wear the same outfits buy the same drinks’ to a level that was _suspicious_. It was dangerous, and instead of siding with him, Bing had decided to fucking join in.

One day, he’d exact his revenge. He didn’t know how, but he would.

… And now he’d thought about Uncle again and was sad. On the good hand, Jet was gone. The Dai Li agent hadn’t followed, though…

He frowned, contemplating Lu Ten’s words to him earlier, before he’d gone and called him a disgrace. He’d said that Zuko’s Uncle was working with the Dai Li.

That was abhorrent. Zuko had grown up in an openly fascist state; he’d recognized Ba Sing Se as a thinly veiled one the moment he’d stepped foot within its walls, though he hadn’t known the word for it yet.

It wasn’t as though the Fire Nation wanted its people to know what to call it.

Ming was fussing and Ping was still glaring at him with her arms crossed. He stood stock still, deciding that unlike with Jet’s crew, which he didn’t care about, he wasn’t going to be answering questions or doing anything until his brain wanted to process exactly what they were saying.

Ping disappeared back through the door that she’d come through for a moment, then returned with a heavy, light green blanket that she chucked at him. He tried to catch it, but the big thing was open and floppy and it just fell over him like some sort of blanket ghost like Azula had liked to pretend she was at night when they were kids.

He pulled it off of his head, narrowing his eyes. She was pointing to the living room, and he thought that he probably could gather the gist of what she was telling him to do.

It was a scary thing, not knowing what anyone around you was saying. He’d had a lifetime to get accustomed to when it hit, but it usually only lasted a few minutes. This had been quite a while.

He rolled his eyes, pulled the blanket snug around himself, and treaded into their living room. Then, he tipped himself over the back of their couch like a heathen, pulled his legs up, and, brain apparently done processing whatever they were doing in the entryway, drifted off to sleep.

He woke with the sun to find that Ming and Ping were already up. There was a bowl of fruit on the table in front of him. He was just grateful that he’d remembered.

“So what exactly happened last night?”

That was Ping’s suspicious voice that had asked. He jumped a little in his skin, turning his head to see her.

“Uh,” he answered unintelligibly.

Her arms were folded over her chest, her glare heavy on his face. He gulped down whatever spit was in his throat.

“Someone was a dick, and then I ran into other dicks unrelated to that dick, but they didn’t do anything?” he offered.

She kept staring at him. He didn’t know what she was waiting for.

“There was someone in our house last night,” she suddenly said.

His shoulders stiffened and his face paled. _What the fuck?_

“Who?” he asked, instead of panicking outright like he easily could have.

She kept glaring at him, and with a start he realized that she wasn’t glaring, she was just staring intently, like she could dig the answers out of his skull with her eyes.

“If I had to hazard a guess,” she accused, “it was a weremonkey, male, Fire Nation, with the same face as your Uncle’s son who I served with in the 600 day siege.”

Zuko’s breath caught in his lungs. He hacked out a cough, doubling over as his chest seized. Ping’s wary expression quickly morphed into one of concern. Her eyes softened.

“Li?” she asked, hurrying over and thumping his back repeatedly.

He brought up a shaky thumb.

“I’m good,” he said, “I’m good. Just…”

He sat upright again, staring at the wall as he thought. If he told them, would they report his information back to his Uncle? Ping had served directly under him.

They would. Or, at least, Ping would.

He shook his head.

They still deserved to know what a spirit might have been doing in their home.

“Is he following you?” Ping asked, ever the perceptive.

Zuko didn’t answer.

Two hands reached out for his neck, thumbs gently rubbing circles where his neck and shoulders met. He couldn’t help but relax under the soothing ministrations.

“I only engaged with him yesterday,” he quietly admitted. “He’s…,” he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t to share the information no matter how much he wanted to.

Ping nodded, stepping back and heading to the kitchen.

“He kept apologizing, but you were asleep.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then:

“You should leave, soon,” she ordered, her soft tone gone. “Your Uncle’s probably worried sick.”

He thought again about what Lu Ten had said about his Uncle the day prior. If the Dai Li agent hadn’t gone after him…

He licked his lips.

The Dai Li agent must have gone to tell someone.

He stood, kicking the blanket off of his legs and pulling it over the couchback. Then, he stretched.

“Yeah,” he decided. “I’m going.”

He was going to his room. Then, he was going to grab his mask and hightail it until he knew what was going on.

He didn’t get to grab his mask or hightail it. He really should have checked to see if his Uncle was in his room before he clambered through the window, undignified as the day his father burnt him.

“Li!” his Uncle shouted, surprise painting his face, as he looked up from where he’d been… meditating?

He immediately stood and dusted off his robes, a grand smile overcoming his face. Zuko was still mostly outside the window.

If he tried to run, his Uncle could catch him. He was the Dragon of the West. Apparently, he was working with the Dai Li.

Zuko bit his tongue and accepted his fate, throwing himself the rest of the way through the window.

“Why didn’t you just take the stairs?” his Uncle asked.

“Dramatic flair,” he easily lied.

There was something in his Uncle’s eyes that betrayed his easy demeanor. As much as he hated to admit it, Zuko knew that he wouldn’t have even thought to look for it just one day prior.

“I’ve closed shop for the day because Jin’s sick and Bing called off to help another friend of ours acclimate to the city,” his Uncle said.

Zuko couldn’t stop the way his good eye widened fractionally.

A friend of theirs acclimating to the city most likely meant another crewmate was moving in. He wondered what they had been doing, if they were one of his Uncle’s probably political pawns.

He hoped they wouldn’t join Ping and Ming’s bullshit scheme.

“It’s Ling,” his Uncle bulldozed all of his hopes and dreams.

Zuko took a deep breath in, then another, without releasing either. He closed his eyes, counted to three, and then released in a wave of flaming heat.

His Uncle merely reached over and patted his head affectionately.

“I’m going to kill them,” Zuko muttered under his breath. “I’m actually going to do it.” He could feel his hands shaking. His dao were in his pants. He could do it. He could turn right around, climb out of his window, and run right back to where he’d come from and slit Ping’s throat. Ming would be only the short distance in the shop. He could even clean his blade in their sink before he went in for the second kill.

He was going to kill whoever the _fuck_ Ling was, too. It objectively wasn't funny. It was dangerous!

His Uncle laughed.

“Sure you will,” he agreed. “When they stop giving you free food and excuses not to work your shifts, you will.”

Zuko scowled.

“I haven’t missed a shift in over two years!” he complained.

“Yeah, and you’re a very hard worker. It’s impressive,” his Uncle complimented.

His happy face fell abruptly away.

“So where were you last night?”

Here came the part that Zuko strongly didn’t want to deal with.

“Trouble came up,” he offered.

He might have had to say something about his cousin to Ping, seeing as his spirit had apparated into their house, but he definitely couldn’t say anything to his Uncle.

He didn’t know if it was because he believed what his cousin had said or if it was because Lu Ten had been his son and it would hurt him.

His Uncle gave a slow nod.

“You’ve been out doing strange things, lately,” he agreed. “Trouble does typically follow such behavior.”

Zuko snorted. What he was doing now was _nothing_ compared to the things he’d done even three years prior.

“Sure,” he returned.

He didn’t really know what to say.

“I can still help you further your training today, if you want,” his Uncle offered.

Zuko turned, not wanting him to see the conflict that he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep from his face.

He trusted his Uncle. He did. He truly did.

The Dai Li agent hadn’t come after him.

He didn’t know if he could trust his Uncle anymore.

He took a deep, hopefully silent breath, and let it out.

“I’ll be down later,” he said slowly. “I need to meditate and review something first.”

His Uncle gave a nod, moving to leave the room. His hand fumbled with the door. Zuko still didn’t turn.

“If you ever need help with anything, or you’re not sure what to believe, follow the wave of heat,” he said.

The end of the proverb definitely was not what Zuko would have expected, and he hadn’t the slightest clue what it meant, but he gave a quick nod anyway, dismissive.

The door closed.

He sank down to his knees, pulling his swords out from his pantlegs. He couldn’t believe that he’d slept concealing them. They could have cut straight through his skin.

They hadn’t, though. That was the thing about his swords, blessed in the name of Agni by himself: they wouldn’t cut him. They couldn’t cut him.

He set them gently on the floor, then stood, taking a few steps over to his desk before seating himself. He pulled out the now-crinkled forms that the guards at the library had given to him, reading over their bullshit words with a furrowed brow.

There had been changes. There had been significant changes. The forms were asking for a lot more information, now than they had been before. Before, it had been more of a generalized survey, like many others addressed to the people of Ba Sing Se, but specifically for weres.

This was asking for information not just about were race, nationality, birthplace, age, gender, names, bending, salary, education, marital status, and other census information. This was now asking about non-bending, non-educational skills and abilities.

It was shady.

Zuko stared at it for a moment. His pen hovered over the name section.

He knew that he’d let the words of a spirit get to him the night prior, and that he definitely shouldn’t keep letting its words get to him. However, something about the things that he had said about Iroh made sense.

For the first time since he’d come to Ba Sing Se, he didn’t write “Li.”

He wrote “Lee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and feedback appreciated as always!


End file.
